


Lemon Drops and Blood Pops

by TokiMirage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, BAMF!Harry Potter, BDSM, Dimension Travel, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Politics, Sexual Content, Time Travel, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-02-24
Updated: 2009-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 84,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokiMirage/pseuds/TokiMirage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever wanted to read a realistic Albus/Harry? I did too, so I wrote it. Contains explicit violence, sex, and all kinds of crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I read a pretty good Harry/Albus fic a while ago that got me curious. I went looking for an even more detailed and realistic version of this pairing and found myself disappointed. Thusly, I decided to write my own for the fun of it. Because of improbability of this pairing, this fic has resulted in a different angle on the overly used dimension travelling crap that I love so much. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: JKRowling owns all, as you very well know. I'm just buggering it all up for fun. (grins) Which means, some things will be utterly disregarded from the series.
> 
> __  
> **If you think this idea is grotesque, please do not read it just to tell me so. Thank you.**  
> 

He'd always thought the science fiction novels that he'd snuck from Dudley's second room during his childhood contained the oddest collection of ideas he'd ever heard of. Hermione had passionately argued that they were in a magical world and therefore anything was possible, even though she could never find any proof, and had scoffed at him for refusing to be open minded about it. He'd stuck to the motto 'I see it, I believe it'. After all, living in the wizarding world certainly let you think outside the box, but if he believed that everything muggles made up in books could happen, he'd never be able to sleep at night.

This stringent belief on his part, however, did not change the fact that he was now well and truly _fucked._

_wWwWw_

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione ran towards him with a huge grin on her face, nearly knocking him over when she hugged him.

"Whoa, Hermione!" Harry laughed. "What's got you all excited, _Professor_?" He kept his face perfectly straight.

She smacked the back of his head gently. "Enough of that, _Agent._ " They managed to keep their expressions serious for about a second before breaking out into comfortable grins. "How's the job going? I wish you wouldn't have moved so far away! We barely get together anymore," she complained, leading him from the entrance hall and towards her quarters.

Harry rolled his eyes. They had this conversation every time he came back from America for a visit. "I like it over there! I don't have to worry about all that pining crap at the Ministry. Americans are far more blasé about the whole thing. They didn't have a Dark Lord in their backyard for nearly forty years, after all. You know I hate all that hero worship."

Hermione frowned. "Are you still getting mobbed in Diagon Alley?"

"I don't know." He grinned. "I haven't stepped foot in it in ten years."

She gently slapped his arm. "You're such a wuss. You could just wear a glamour, you know."

Harry shrugged. "There's no reason to. There are plenty of hidden wizarding communities in America where I can buy my groceries."

She rolled her eyes and muttered the password to her portrait guardian. The lady in the painting waved flirtatiously at Harry before disappearing behind the back of her frame.

"What were you overly excited about when I first got here?" Harry asked, taking the glass of firewhisky she poured for him out of habit.

Her face lit up in delight. "You won't believe what was discovered in a recent archaeological dig in Brazil! You know how I've been following a bunch of recent discoveries for that pet project of mine, right?"

Harry just stared, pasting a smile on his face. Oh yeah. He knew _all_ about her 'little' pet project. After the Final Battle at Hogwarts ten years ago, when most of the ghost population had been exorcised by invading Death Eaters during a night raid (so they couldn't sound the alarm), Hermione had accepted the position of History Professor, as Binns had been one of the 'unfortunate' victims. She'd completely reworked the curriculum, using the class to educate students on past wars (not just Goblin wars), and more recent ones, as well as to impart the culture of the past and current magical societies.

Although the inflammatory legislation against the existence and rights of magical creatures had been abolished in the British Ministry of Magic after the war, there were still mixed emotions among the people. It had helped that their precious 'Boy-Who-Lived' was a botched half-vampire unafraid of using his fame for the benefit of magical creatures all across Britain. So Hermione had taken it upon herself to educate the new generation on these cultures in order to help prevent such prejudice in the future.

Once her curriculum was set, she'd found herself with extra time on her hands. Being Hermione, she went looking for something scholarly and interesting to latch onto. As she was a History teacher, she was fascinated with the discovery of the past, so she followed multiple archaeological digs and research groups to keep herself entertained. Her more recent 'project' had been the discovery of an ancient temple buried in Brazil that had once belonged to an order of monks intent on preserving knowledge of old. Some of the manuscripts found were now the oldest pieces of magical knowledge blah blah blah. Harry himself couldn't give a rat's arse, but he showed polite interest because it was Hermione.

She needed him. He knew that. She needed someone who would politely listen to her ramblings about whatever thing she was currently smothering herself with, because if she didn't get that contact, she wouldn't be able to force herself out of bed in the morning. Harry remembered the last time he had failed to visit Hermione due to a job he'd been on. It had taken him his two weeks time off to get her speaking again without bursting into tears.

The war hadn't been easy on them. Everyone suffered, but it always hit the children the hardest. Ron's death had hit Hermione the hardest. And so Harry did his best to remain her support, to listen, and to remind her that she still had people in this world who loved her. She'd been doing a lot better since the first relapse, but he didn't want to take any chances.

He'd refused long term assignments after that incident.

"Yeah? What did they find that's got you so excited?"

She smirked, pulling something off her bookshelf. "Proof."

Harry blinked. Trust her to remember some little thing he'd probably said fifteen years ago. "Proof of what?"

"It's a copy of a manuscript found at the Brazilian dig. Read it."

Harry carefully pulled the new parchment apart, stretching it out to read. His eyebrows rose at the sight of many italic scribbles on the left in a column, and what appeared to be a translation on the right. His eyebrows went even higher when he read what appeared to be the description of a spell.

"See! I told you it's a possibility! It's magic." She smiled happily, nearly bouncing in her chair. When Harry looked up at her and stared, she continued. "We now have proof that alternate dimensions exist, and that people have travelled to them!"

Harry vaguely remembered rebuking Hermione one night in the library when they were sixteen, but he was amazed that she cared enough to remember it and throw it in his face. A smile quirked his lips. Reliable Hermione.

"What do you think? We know it's a possibility, but many people are curious about what's in these other dimensions. Does time pass at the same speed? Are those worlds bound by the same rules as ours? Do they have the same people? It's all very fascinating. They've managed to translate the entire spell because of a dictionary found near it, but no one quite knows how to pronounce the dead language, so we can't cast it to test it."

Harry hummed thoughtfully under his breath, staring at the dead language. When the symbols began to shift under his eyes, he blinked in surprise. They stilled. He stared a bit longer and they began to shift again, almost like snakes on the page. Without knowing it, his mouth opened and began to hiss as the language sparked the genetic knowledge that came with his parselmouth abilities. In a trance, and to the horror of Hermione, he finished the spell and disappeared in a flash of light.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry came to consciousness with a headache knocking around in his temple. His training already kicking in, he remained utterly still and kept his breathing in the steady rhythm of sleep. Spreading his bastardized vampire senses around him, he heard nothing, smelt only dust, and felt no objects or beings of magic nearby. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Hermione's quarters. Before she had moved in. They were completely barren.

Sitting up in surprise, he frantically looked around the room for any sign of his best friend.

There was none.

Groaning when the pain from his head made itself known, he put a hand to his head to still the swirling room in front of him. It didn't help. Becoming too nauseous to hold it in, he leaned over and emptied his stomach onto the floor. The feeling of sickness beginning to ease, he pushed himself away from the puddle of vomit and eased himself back onto the stone to rest. What was wrong with him?

It took nearly an hour of meditation for his body to recover enough for him to feel like moving was a good idea. He didn't dare to let himself fall asleep again, as he was in a foreign location and had no Intel. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he sighed in relief when the world remained stubbornly in place around him. He pushed himself toward a wall, not wanting to fall flat on his face when he tried to stand. Fortunately, it seemed his body had mostly recovered from whatever had happened to it. He probably had his slightly quickened healing to thank for that.

Pulling out his wand, he waved it at the mess on the floor to vanish it and nearly collapsed again. His eyes widened in shock. How had he not even noticed?? He was running dangerously low on reserves. He berated himself for not noticing the state of his magic, knowing that if he'd cast any more powerful magic he probably would have passed out.

"Fuck!" he growled under his breath, sheathing his wand and leaning against the wall to support his weight. Just his fucking luck. He had no idea where he was, and only the fuzzy memories of Hermione in her office and a scroll of parchment gave him a clue. Closing his eyes, he tried to center his mind and get his emotions under control. It wouldn't do him any good to freak out.

At least he had his emergency kit, he calmed himself. Every person from the Agency was required to keep emergency potions, clothes, food, and money stocked in their kit at all times. It was the first thing their Commander had pounded into all of their heads.  _Be prepared for shit, anytime, anywhere._

It had saved his life before, and it might just do it again.

Reaching into his mouth, he gave a twist and pull and knocked out his fake molar. Muttering the personalized spell, he tossed it onto the floor. It turned a miniature trunk, brown and simple looking. Going through the motions of unlocking the complicated warding, he had it open in ten seconds.

Pursing his lips, he stared at the collection of potions in front of him. Most of them were useless at the moment, as he was uninjured, but he had hidden in a compartment a potion he'd had Snape design specifically for when his magic was this low. Convincing the bastard to help him had taken a lot of work, but it was completely worth it. If he hadn't had it, he wouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort in the Final Battle.

Rubbing his finger along the inside of the lid, the runes came to life and a vial melted out of the material. Grabbing it, he tossed it back and settled himself back against the wall. Snape had adapted the potion from an old ritual that allowed the user to become 'one' with nature. Harry had discovered that it did all of two things. It opened the sixth sense, that of magic, and it also widened the channels in the user's body somewhat to let his or her magic flow freely. And so, Snape had designed the new potion to allow his magic channels to  _accept_  vast quantities of magic, instead of releasing. This allowed Harry to recharge his core much faster than would normally be physically possible.

No one had ever bothered to create such a method before, because nobody known in history took as long as Harry to recover from magical exhaustion. Even Dumbledore only took a week. The less you used your magic, the faster it regenerated itself. That was why agents, like aurors, were trained to use their magic in small bursts so they didn't tire out their cores. A normal person took three to five days to recover their entire core after they spent it all. It took Harry three weeks. He didn't know if he was the only freak who experienced this, as no one knew how long it had taken Merlin or Voldemort to recover. The bastard had leached off his followers constantly, so he had never gotten magically exhausted. It had made him extremely difficult to terminate.

So, since it was ill advised for Harry to be wandering around god-only-knew-where with a near-empty core, it was best to take the potion.

Slipping into meditation, Harry opened his senses to Hogwarts around him. His immediate connection gave him a headache when the school latched onto him and began prodding his magic to figure out what he was. He let her explore him, slowly opening the floodgates to let her magic recharge him. When she didn't pull it back and refuse him, he let them open all the way and soaked it up. It would take a day for his body to turn the ambient magic into his own flavour, but this didn't particularly bother him. He could still cast spells, they just weren't as effective.

It took an hour of meditation for his core to fill, and Harry thanked his lucky stars that no one had found him here. It would be quite awkward if someone did. 'Excuse me? Who are you and what the hell are you doing in an unused room?' Yeah, that would go down sooo well.

Slowly opening his eyes, he wished pointlessly that it would become Hermione's quarters instead of the dusty empty room it had been the last time he looked at it. When endless dust greeted his eyes again, he sighed. No such luck. How the hell had he gotten here anyway? Rubbing his forehead, he wished his memory would clear up. Maybe he'd hit his head?

Reaching over, he pulled back the vial holder that hooked onto the brim of the trunk, expecting to see his invisibility cloak inside. It was gone.

Panic welled up in his throat. What the  _hell?_  Nobody had access to this trunk! He'd checked it before visiting Hermione, Merlin's balls! Where had it  _gone?_

Putting a hand to his forehead, he cast a mild headache healing charm and tried to calm down and  _think_. It was impossible for someone to steal it. There was no explanation for this. It had simply  _disappeared._

Fuck. Now he had to use spells that could be  _countered_  or  _detected._

Taking a deep breath, he calmed his mind and double checked his Occlumency shields. They were up and strong. After making sure that everything  _else_  in his trunk that was supposed to be there  _was_ , he closed it, changed it back into the tooth, and stuck it in his mouth.

Looking down at his robes, he cast a quick cleaning spell to take care of the dust. Next he cast all the stealth spells he knew, going so far as to use soundless and scent blocking charms. He slipped out of the portrait that lead into Hermione's… well. The empty room.

"What's this? Who just snuck out of me? I don't recall letting anyone in."

Harry mentally cursed. Stupid portrait. Oh well, it wasn't like he had to explain himself to her. It would just be one more unexplained mystery at Hogwarts. Let her think it was a ghost, or something.

Not waiting around to see if she called a teacher or patrolling prefect, he slipped through the familiar, yet,  _not_  familiar walls of Hogwarts. Her magic felt similar, but not quite the same. It was a different flavour, and he was already losing the taste of it as his body converted it to his own. Shrugging it off as just one more odd thing he needed to figure out, he jogged toward the entrance hall. He needed to get out and regroup.

"Mr. Riddle, would you please wait a moment?"

Harry's heart froze in his chest.

"What is it, Professor?" a polite voice asked, nearly oozing innocence.

Harry turned his head to the left to look in an adjacent corridor.

There stood Tom Marvolo Riddle, posed at the bottom of a set of stairs, staring upwards. Harry's eyes moved to the colourful robe and auburn hair.

_No_

"I had a concern about a source you used in your last Transfiguration essay."

_No fucking way_

"Really, sir? What about it?"

Harry stared as Dumbledore finally arrived at the bottom of the steps, a congenial smile on his face and a hard edge to his eyes.

"I was curious what book you got the information in the second paragraph from? The one concerning human transfiguration?"

Harry couldn't see Tom's expression, but he did see the way his left hand twitched slightly.

"Human transfiguration? Oh… hmm… Well, I used books from the library, but I'm afraid I can't remember exactly which one I got the information from. Sorry, sir." When Tom made to walk away, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"I did not dismiss you, Mr. Riddle." Harry could see Tom's eyes now, since the boy had turned to face him. Annoyance flashed in the boy's eyes before smoothing into innocent confusion as he turned around.

"Sorry, Professor. Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

Dumbledore stared at him evenly for a few moments before speaking. "You and I both know that kind of information is found in the restricted section, Mr. Riddle."

"I'm afraid I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Professor."

"I am aware of your arrangement with Professor Slughorn."

"I'm just doing a bit of extra studying for potions class, Professor. Professor Slughorn approves."

"Does he check the titles of the books you take out?" Harry had only seen the same level of suppressed animosity from Dumbledore once before: in the memory the diary had shared with him in second year when Dumbledore had confronted Tom about the  _real_  creature that had killed Myrtle, not Hagrid's spider. He couldn't believe he was seeing this  _live_.

"I'm sorry? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Professor. Can I please go to supper now?"

Dumbledore stared at him for a few minutes before nodding. Tom turned away, walking towards Harry with a small smirk on his face. Harry felt the strange urge to reach out and touch the boy as he walked by, to see if he was real. He didn't, though, as that would completely destroy his cover.

Turning to look back at Dumbledore, he found the man squinting in his direction, and nearly cursed ten times aloud. Shit! Dumbledore might be able to see something. He was a powerful wizard, after all, and he'd always had a nose for trouble. His heart clenched at the idea of running away from his old mentor, but he knew he had to before Dumbledore started casting revealing spells in his direction. Nearly booking it out of desperation, he ran back the way he came and into an unused corridor, his mind already mapping out his escape route. It would be the long way around, but he'd be able to lose Dumbledore in the maze of corridors and secret passages.

When the blood pounding in his ears began to clear, and Harry heard no steps behind him, he finally began to calm down. He either lost him or Dumbledore hadn't bothered to follow. Breathing a sigh of relief, incredibly glad he'd been so paranoid and cast a soundless charm on himself, he slowed his run to a jog, and then to a walk. His breath was slightly uneven from his little shock back there, but otherwise his training kicked in and kept it at a steady pace. It helped having some of the stamina of a vampire, too.

Poking his head out of the last hidden corridor before the entrance hall, he was grateful to see no students wandering around. He could already hear the din from the Great Hall, however. It appeared Tom  _had_  been heading to dinner.

Shaking away the confusing bag of worms that appeared with that thought, he made a break for the door, glanced around, spread his magic and half-vampire senses to make sure no one was watching, and snuck out into the night.

 


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Harry had passed the wards, he'd dropped the camouflaging spells and apparated straight to Diagon Alley. Hopefully he'd be able to get something to eat and rent a room for the night until he could figure something else out. He had an emergency store of 1000 galleons in his trunk, shrunk like almost everything else inside it, but since he already had some money on him he decided to leave it till he needed it.

Leaving the apparating point in Diagon, he headed for the Leaky Cauldron, trying not to stare in shock at the hustle and bustle around him. And at the  _stores_  that he'd never seen before. And he swore that the alley was actually a little dirtier than he remembered, too. But that could just be skewed memories, he supposed.

"Evenin', stranger! What can I get for you?"

Harry smiled at the woman he had never seen before working behind the counter. "I'd like a room and a meal, Madam."

The slightly over weight lady laughed raucously. "Y'hear that, Dick? Madam! You could learn some manners yerself!" The man she yelled at, a shady looking fellow at the end of the bar sipping at a drink, just muttered.

She grinned at Harry. "Don't mind him. He's a regular. One room and a meal comin' right up. What did you want to eat?"

Harry smiled back nervously. "What do you have?"

She passed him a menu and excused herself to help another customer. He glanced over it and picked a reasonably balanced dish. Steak with vegetables and mashed potatoes. He wondered how bloody he'd be able to have the steak without coming across as weird… or slightly vampiric. People ate steak rare, right?

When the lady came back, he returned her greeting smile. "I'll have the steak dish B, medium rare."

"Anything to drink?"

"Just milk."

She raised an eyebrow at his choice but took the order down on a sheet of paper. "You pay when the food comes. Did you want your room right away or after you eat?"

Harry thought about it. He could eavesdrop if he stuck around, maybe nick a news paper. It would be a good idea to gather some Intel. "After, thanks."

She nodded. "Tom!! Get your ass in the kitchen! Order up!"

Harry stared as a gangly, brown-haired teenager stumbled out of the bathroom with a plunger in his hand. "I'm goin'!" He watched as the boy disappeared into the back.

The lady at the counter sighed. "They grow up so fast."

Harry smiled and sat. Why not milk the bartender, the center of all rumours, while he waited for his meal? She  _had_  just given him the opportunity to open conversation. "Is he still in school?"

The bartender beamed brightly. "Just graduated! I'm so proud. Did decent on his NEWTs, unlike his father." She muttered the last bit under her breath as she poured him his glass of milk. "I'm hopin' he'll take over the business when I retire. 'Course, if he wants to do somethin' else, I won't make him."

Harry smiled, hoping it looked encouraging. "It's hard to make kids do anything they don't want to, huh?"

She let out a gust of air. "Definitely. I got lucky with this one, I think, though. He's a right sweetheart." She smiled, holding a face to her hand and blushing. "He was helpin' out around here before I even asked."

"You're very lucky," Harry said, trying not to think about his own lack of family.

She smiled. "What about you, young man? Knocked up some pretty young lady yet?"

Harry choked on his milk, nearly snorting it out his nose. She grinned, reaching around to slap him on the back. "No, no knocking up. Or pretty ladies, for that matter."

She made a cooing noise and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Yer handsome." She grinned. "You'll find one sooner or later."

Harry decided it was best not to tell her that after two failed female relationships, Cho Change and Ginny Weasley, he'd discovered he preferred to take it up the ass. No, that would  _not_  be a good thing to say. So he smiled and thanked her, hoping he could steer this conversation in more profitable directions. He'd greased the wheels enough with this happy family crap.

"So, I was wondering, Ms…" He looked politely confused.

She smiled. "Just call me Helma. None o' that Miss or Missus crap."

"Alright, Helma. I'm afraid I'm just passing through, and I don't know where the best places to shop are, or the recent gossip…" He smiled in what he hoped was a charming way. "Think you could throw a guy a bone?"

She laughed. "Sure thing, sweetheart. You from the States? You certainly got the accent." Harry didn't bother to disabuse her of this notion. Technically, he had been living in America for ten years now. Before he was here. Er, whatever. "Well, there's a really good clothing store that just opened, called Madam Malkins. It doesn't have much stock yet, but she's good…"

Harry listened to her babble, picking up hints about recent politics, and gently nudging the conversation in the right direction when she strayed. It was hard to keep her talking when she had to help other customers, but she seemed happy to come back to him and talk some more, for which he was grateful. When his food came, she had to leave him to keep up with the dinner rush, but he already had plenty of information.

The people were dissatisfied with the Ministry, but not nearly as much as they were during the first and second war. Tom would slowly become Voldemort over the next 25 years, applying for the DADA position at Hogwarts at some point after Dumbledore would become Headmaster… If he was just in the past. Or maybe-

His brain jerked to a stop as the memory of his last moments  _before_  was triggered. Blinking rapidly to clear the spots from his vision, Harry stared down at his half-eaten steak. He was in another  _dimension?_  What had Hermione been talking about right before then…? Something in Brazil… and there was that parchment with swirling letters on it… written parselmouth. He'd said the spell out loud and- no, think about what Hermione was blathering on about… she'd mentioned… time inconsistencies? People being the same? So, he was either in a dimension very different from his own, or rather similar. The question was, would things progress as they had in his world? Did he have 'knowledge' of a possible 'future', or would things be completely different? Would Tom be evil?

Harry scoffed. Of course Tom would be evil. The little brat was already reading books in the restricted section, and he was probably graduating soon. Who knew if he'd go work at Borgin and Burks or not? Had he already begun his research on horcruxes?  _Would_  he ask for the DADA position at all? Would Dumbledore even get his promotion to headmaster?

So many questions, and he had no way of getting answers. Just because he knew a possible future didn't mean that things would turn out the same way. He'd already started affecting events, just sitting at this counter and taking to Helma. But for him to even be here in the first place, there must have been differences before he came along. After all, he hadn't travelled back in time or anything, he had travelled  _sideways_. Or something. He only remembered so much Hermione theory from fifteen years ago.

Hermione. How was she holding up? Would she try to find him? Did she even know where he was? How would she find him? There were so many dimensions, and it wasn't like he could put up a sign at the entrance saying 'Harry Potter, looking for Hermione Granger, Is Here'. He stopped himself. He couldn't think of what if's right now. He had a job to do. He had a  _life_  to figure out. Only when his immediate problems were solved would he let himself wonder.

"You okay, sweetheart? You look a little pale."

Harry snapped out of it to see Helma standing in front of him. He smiled weakly at her. "Just contemplating how little money I have."

She frowned. "Need a job?"

He nodded, grabbing his cup of milk and swirling the contents to get himself focused in the real world again.

"Well, I have enough help with Tom, but you could try asking around Diagon Alley. You got any special skills?"

Caught off guard, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Cooking."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really now? Few men have that skill, hun." She winked at him. "Anything else you can think of? It's best to have as many options as you can."

He thought about it. He was so  _not_  about to tell her subterfuge and assassinations were his specialty. "Um, well, I'm pretty good with a wand." He ignored the double entendre  _that_  could have been.

She raised an eyebrow. "Anything you're interested in, hun? You lookin' for a long term job or a short one?"

"Long term."

"Well, I'd suggest finding a job to put food on the table, and  _then_  get picky about finding a better one." She smiled. "Can I get you anything else tonight?"

He shook his head, took out his wand, and cast a conjuring spell and levitating charm consecutively. His leftovers floated into a small box that he sealed, shrunk, and put in his pocket. All without words.

Helma's eyebrows rose. "Well, you said you were good with a wand. You learn silent castin' in school?" she asked, handing him the key to his room.

Harry nodded. "Yes. And thanks."

She grinned. "For what? Takin' yer money? That's one galleon please."

As soon as Harry got up to his room, he collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. Traveling dimensions tired a guy out. He'd create his ID early tomorrow morning, when it was still night in America. He'd done it plenty of times before, so this shouldn't be any different.

_wWwWw_

Well, it was different, but actually easier than before. Offices had moved, so he'd had to track those down, but the bright side was that muggles didn't have  _computers_  everywhere that he had to pay a hacker to deal with and then obliviate. Oh no, everything was in easily forged paper copies, with only a couple backups that he had to locate and adjust. So now all he had to do was find some dead guy named Harry that nobody cared about, make him undead, and steal his name.

Thank god for complex summoning charms.

He was currently standing in a highly secret government facility staring at ten possible Harrys whose name he could steal. Three of them he sent back to where they came from, as they still had living family. The other seven he spent the next hour going over. He had to charm a couple security guards into confusion, but other than that it was a cakewalk compared to how much trouble it normally took.

He eventually settled on Harrison Underwood, a 30-year-old man who would now be 35 if he was still alive. He'd been boring in life. He'd died of heart attack in the middle of a restaurant and hadn't even made the paper. He'd worked dead-end jobs his entire life, lived alone, died alone, and nobody had remembered him.

Perfect.

Harry made some corrections to the file, glamoured himself to look like the picture (except not quite so large), made himself not dead, destroyed the death certificate, took the birth certificate, and looked through the register to see where else the man's files were being kept. Luckily, he only had three other stops to make today. He had two files to change and he had to get into the American Department of Magic to turn Harrison Underwood into a wizard.

_wWwWw_

Harry arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron tired but satisfied. He'd only had to be so detailed with a fake identity once before, and he was quite glad that now he would never have to do it again. He didn't work for the Agency any more, after all. They didn't even know he existed. Heck, he didn't even know if  _they_  existed yet.

After becoming a real person, Harry knew he needed to find a job. In records he was a home schooled wizard with the same OWLs and NEWTs as in his old world, but as he wasn't going to become an auror (at least not yet) he didn't really know what to do with himself. Letting out a sigh, he snuggled into the sheets, wanting to sleep until he got kicked out at noon.

_wWwWw_

He woke up with such a craving for blood that he knew it was his bi-weekly feeding time. Growling under his breath, his forced his fangs to resheath and fell out of bed. He needed to go buy some blood pops.

Harry's state of half-vampirism was quite an odd occurrence in the magical world. Hermione told him he was the first of his kind. He told her he didn't really care. All he knew was that he had slightly better senses, could see in the dark, could bench press a pony, and got irritating cravings for blood every two weeks. He didn't actually  _need_  blood, like a real vampire, but the craving wouldn't go away until it was satisfied. When he had first survived the failed turning, he'd been disgusted with the idea of drinking blood, and had managed to 'starve' himself for a month before he caved, vanished into the Forbidden Forest, and drained a wolf dry. Now he just fed the craving so he wouldn't have deal with it 24/7. Blood pops helped especially, if he had to put off a feeding for a long period of time. On assignment once, holed up in the ceiling of a department store waiting for his target, he'd had to suffer his craving for a week. Since he'd had a supply of blood pops at the time (as a safety precaution), he'd managed to refrain from ripping into the muggle whose office he was watching.

Being a half-vampire had also helped with the Magical Beings Movement right after the end of the war. Who was going to call The-Boy-Who-Lived a creature and take away his rights? Or rather, who would  _dare_. He'd become well known for his ruthlessness during the war, especially after Scrimgeour, the new Minister, made killing Death Eaters completely legal. It was a huge turning point in the war.

And now all that hard work had never happened. Vampires were kill-on-sight 'extremely dangerous magical creatures', and werewolves only had it moderately better than them. He wasn't a politician. How the hell was he supposed to get something that massive to happen again?

Find another Hermione.

Financially back someone else? That could work… if only he had money. Which he didn't. How does one go about making vast amounts of money in a short period of time? Then suddenly, it clicked. What if he owned an incredibly successful business…? And what kind of business was successful no matter  _how bad_  the war got? Quidditch.

Brooms. He could go into brooms. Put Quality Quidditch Supplies, if they even existed, out of business. Part of his training back at the Agency had been how to throw a Firebolt equivalent broom together in ten minutes. The tough part about making brooms was that you couldn't carve it by wand or use a magical wood, because the ambient magic would disrupt the new spells you put on it.

He got an evil grin on his face. First he had to get a name for himself, or rather, his broom. Whatever that broom may be. And he needed to check out the competition, see what they had to offer so he could offer better.

With plans swirling in his head, he apparated to Diagon Alley.

_wWwWw_

"You wanna work here, you say?"

Harry nodded. "Oh yes. I've heard you make the best brooms in Britain, and I really love Quidditch, so I'd love to work here, even if all I do is mop the floor!" He hoped he sounded enthusiastic. Because he  _really_  didn't like cleaning. Suffering 17 years at the Dursleys had made him  _hate_  it. And the only reason he didn't hate cooking too was because if he did he'd starve. Simple as that.

The balding man sitting behind the counter looked rather dubious. "You look like you've been outa school for ten or so years, why did you choose to work here  _now?_ "

Harry let his expression turn downtrodden. "Well…" He wracked his brain for an excuse. "My mom made me work in her restaurant after I graduated. Didn't want to let me find my own way." Tom's situation was the first thing that came to mind, except the boy actually seemed to  _like_  working at the Leaky Cauldron.

The man nodded, as if it made sense to him. Beady black eyes looked him up and down, assessing. "Well, even if we could use you, we're not hiring. The boss is going out of business."

Harry stared. "What? Quality Quidditch Supplies is going out of business? How? They're the only broom provider in the Alley." The man blushed at the sheer disbelief in Harry's voice.

"Well, an old worker stole the boss's secret to broom making before he died, and he's started up a store in Hogsmeade that's been getting more business because of the cheaper prices. The new owner, who inherited it from her grandfather, doesn't know much about broom making," the man gossiped.

Harry wanted to verbally slap him, but only after he executed his devious new plot. "Well, if she's going out of business, does that mean she's selling?"

The man looked at him funny. "Why would you care?"

Harry wiped the eager expression off his face and stood up straight. "Well, I suppose there's no point in snooping around to steal company secrets if the company's going bloody bankrupt and not hiring." Beetle-eyes behind the counter stared at him in shock. "Get me your owner. I'd like to speak to her about a business proposition."

Mouth opening and closing in surprise, Beetle-eyes ran through a door leading into the back of the store. Half a minute later, a young woman came through the door with a curious look on her face.

Harry stared. A woman only 20 years old owning a business in  _this_  time and age? She was a bloody miracle.

"What?" she snapped, obviously used to dealing with chauvinism.

Harry smiled at her, and she looked taken aback. "Hello, miss. Are you perchance the owner of this store?" When she nodded, he continued. "I'd like to buy it, if you're selling."

She stared at him for a moment, completely taken by surprise. "Why would you want to buy it? It's failing. That…" She bit her lip, obviously censoring some rather 'inappropriate' language. "My last broom crafter left after learning all my secrets. He's making far more money than we are now, having come up with a better product."

Harry nodded. "So I heard." She glared at Beetle-eyes, who quickly shut the door from where he had been peaking. Harry grinned. "I can assure you that this crafter has nothing on me, miss. However, if you are unwilling to sell me the business, I could always go elsewhere to buy a store." He turned to leave when she spoke.

"Wait!" Harry turned back to her, waiting patiently as she seemed to struggle with some inner war. "The whole business costs 2000 galleons, and that's including present merchandise."

Harry stared her in the eyes. She was bluffing. He didn't need Legilimency to tell him that. He hadn't seen a single customer enter the store in the three hours he staked it out. "I have no interest in your merchandise." See how she took that.

She bit her lip, and Harry knew he had her. She wasn't used to staring down dark wizards like he was. He could beat her in a day of poker any day. "1750 galleons."

He gave her a level stare, but this time she didn't flinch. 1750 galleons was a lot of money in this day and age, with inflation and all. He didn't have that much money to begin with, and he'd prefer to not be in debt before his business even started. If he went to the goblins for more money, who knew what kind of deal they'd wrangle out of it. He had a lot of respect for the species, but they were ruthless about money.

"You and I both know a failing business like yours is hardly worth that much money." He didn't, actually, but the shifty look in her eyes had told him so. "If you were to sell the property you wouldn't make nearly as much money as I'm willing to offer. I will pay you 1000 galleons," her eyes narrowed, "and guarantee you a job here for as long as you wish."

She'd been about to ream into him when she heard the second proposition. She closed her mouth thoughtfully. He didn't know what went on in that pretty little head of hers, but eventually she nodded. "Deal." Magic wrapped around them to seal the agreement. "I'll draw up the paperwork for the Ministry."

"What about me?" Beetle-eyes asked, opening the door.

She glared at him. "Ask your new boss." They both looked at him expectantly.

He stared. What did he need him for? He was terrible with customers, Harry could tell already. He was a coward. And he reminded Harry of Peter, which was  _not_  a good thing. "You're fired. Your old boss can pay you whatever she owes you, but after that I want you out."

The lady pulled a sickle out of her pocket and put them in his trembling hands. She stared him down, disdain evident in her eyes. "You heard him."

After he scuttled out of the door, she let out a breath. "I never liked him. Always felt like he was staring at my chest." She put a hand to her mouth in horror, but Harry just laughed.

"Glad to have gotten rid of him then! What are you going to do with all the old stuff?" he asked, waving his hand at the door to lock it and turn the 'open' sign to 'closed'. The witch stared at him in shock for a moment before snapping out of it. "W-well, I suppose I could just sell it. There wasn't much left anyway. No point in making more brooms if no one was buying them."

Harry nodded, glancing around the store, contemplating whether or not he'd change the name of his new Quidditch shop. The old name probably had negative reviews associated with it now, so he figured he'd change it.

"Is there anything I need to know about owning a store? Like whether or not I have to pay taxes?"

She stared at him. "You've never owned a business before?"

"Nope."

If she were less lady-like, her jaw would have dropped, but she managed to cover it up with a hand to her face. "B-but you, you called me on my bluff!"

Harry grinned. "Sorry sweetheart, but you just suck at poker." She looked positively appalled. He wasn't sure if it was at herself or his language. Everyone in this time was so old-fashioned. Well, except for Helma. But she worked in a bloody  _bar_.

"Well, yes, there's a Diagon Alley tax, for keeping the streets clean and such, and then there's the business tax that must be paid to the Ministry. Like house tax, except more."

Harry nodded, walking over to a shelf and picking up a toy snitch. He turned it on and spent the next couple minutes of conversation catching it. It was quite slow. "How much is that? And when must it be paid?"

She shifted. "In a couple days, actually. It's 1 galleon a month for the business tax, and 4 sickles for the Diagon tax."

Harry winced, reached into his robes for his money pouch, and dumped the contents on a nearby counter. He sighed. Some quick counting told him he had 60 galleons, 5 sickles, and 20 knuts. If he was lucky, he had just enough to buy some wood, pay the lady's wage, and cover the taxes. Bugger.

"What's your name, by the way?" he asked, catching the snitch again as it flashed in front of his eyes.

The lady was watching him with the oddest expression on her face. "Darcy Whittleton."

He stared. "Isn't that a man's name?"

The stormy look on her face told him all he needed to know: he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Er, sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." He nervously scratched the back of his head, then, seeing the snitch again, snapped his hand out to grab it.

She was looking at him with amusement, now. "I see you do indeed like Quidditch, even if you have no business sense."

Harry figured it was fair, that she insult him back. He shrugged at her comment. "I know how to make a broomstick, and I need money, so… I figured business's make good money. I just need to kick the ass of this guy in Hogsmeade, right? Shouldn't be too difficult."

When he looked away from the snitch that had distracted him again, Darcy had a hand over her mouth and a blush on her face. Harry blinked. "What? What'd I do this time?"

She chuckled behind her hand. "Your mouth's as dirty as my Pa's."

Harry blinked. "Oh. And here I thought I had done something unforgivable." He laughed. "Sorry, but you may have to get used to it. This is how we talk, where I'm from."

She nodded. "Shall I go get the written contract?"

Harry nodded, catching the snitch one last time before turning it off and setting it back where he found it. Darcy disappeared into the back room, and Harry followed her after magically putting all his money back in his pouch. Might as well see the rest of the building he'd bought.

The back space was surprisingly large. There was a long workbench along the far wall, with plenty of wood chips all over the place. Darcy had probably been working on something when he'd gotten Beetle-eyes to get her. He watched as she opened a safe on the floor and pulled out a parchment. Unrolling it onto the large square workbench in the middle of the room, she summoned a quill and ink to her.

"The entire store is made up of three main rooms, aside from the bathroom. There's a supply space upstairs, this main work room, and the store front. The bathroom is upstairs. I will keep all the old brooms and Quidditch supplies, though I don't know what I'll do with them. Now, give me the 1000 galleons and sign here."

Harry blinked. She was quite bossy for a woman in this era. She kind of reminded him of Hermione's busybody behaviour, except more rough. "One second, I have to enlarge my trunk." He winked at her. "It's a secret." And with that said, he quickly disappeared upstairs to yank out his tooth and enlarge it. Reaching inside, he pulled out the sack of coin, closed the trunk, shrank it, and snapped it back where it belonged. Running back down the stairs, he enlarged the large sack of gold and dropped it with a tinkle onto the table.

Darcy cast a money counting spell at the bag and smiled when the correct numbers floated above it in gold. She shoved the quill into his hand. Giving the contract a quick read-through, he nodded to himself. It was fairly straightforward. Pausing above the dotted line for a moment, he frowned. He supposed it didn't really matter what his signature looked like. And so, with his chicken scratch writing, he put down 'Harrison Underwood'. In a flash of light, the contract rolled up, duplicated, and then the duplicate disappeared to probably go to the Ministry.

"Would you like some help cleaning all your stuff out?" Harry asked. When Darcy nodded with a smile, they got to it.

An hour later found them both sitting upstairs at a conjured table with conjured chairs and (thank god) real tea (Darcy's). They discussed what her tasks would be, and a reasonable wage. She was quite happy with what he offered. He would pay her 10 sickles every two weeks, and would give her a raise if he could afford it. He hoped that eventually she would be able to run his business for him, but didn't tell her that.

"Now, I'd like you to sign a magical contract stating that you won't share my broom-making secrets with anyone. Is that acceptable?"

She looked uneasy at first, but eventually agreed. Grabbing a quill, he quickly scratched out what he had in mind.

_While working under Harrison Underwood I hereby declare that I will not wilfully divulge any of his secrets that pertain to his broomstick-related business, through any form of communication, unless divulging aforementioned secrets may result in my death or irreversible injury._

He pushed the parchment across the table. "How's that? That way if you're tortured or something, you have a way out. Gotta be careful with magical contracts. You're life's worth more than a bunch of trade secrets, after all."

She stared down at the parchment with wide eyes for almost a minute before signing it. The magic snapped into being around them, and the parchment rolled up and sealed. Harry put it aside to be placed in the vault. The up and downside of contracts in comparison to wizarding oaths was that they could be destroyed.

"When would you like me to start work?" she asked.

Harry frowned, staring down at the grain of the table he had created. He could sense his magic in it, and he could gauge that it could exist for three days before it would disappear again. He needed wood. The question was whether he should go get it from the forest himself, or get it from muggles. Muggle wood was cut with steel blades, though, which impeded magical flow. He'd probably have to do it himself. Bugger.

"I'm gonna go wood hunting tonight, and build a couple of brooms for tomorrow so we can get the business going. I need to go take a look at the competition's model, too, so I know what I can improve to steal his customers."

Here Darcy got a wicked glint in her eyes. "It's 4 right now. His store closes at 4:30 if you want to go take a look."

Harry grinned. "Why Darcy! You sly girl. Wanna come with me?"

"Happily."

_wWwWw_

Harry had to side-along apparate them there, and just had to make sure that he picked a part of the road that he  _knew_  had never had any buildings on it. It made for a slightly longer walk to the store, but he didn't really mind. It was summer, and the weather was beautiful.

"Good evening, wizards and witches, and welcome to Hopscott's Brooms. What can I do for you?"

The man behind the counter was genial until he recognized exactly who Harry's 'date' was. The two traded glares while Harry pretended to be a rich customer. He ran a hand along all the models, getting a feel for the charms and quality of each before moving on to the next. He wouldn't be able to copy the charms from these brooms, but he knew he could always make up a better spell. Spell creation had been one of his talents during the war, but he'd never intended to go into it as a profession. It was funny, seeing as that was technically what he would be doing from now on, at least until Darcy could take over the actually business running part of it.

"Can I help you, sir? We at Hopscott's Brooms like to ensure each customer is matched with the perfect broom for him or her." He smiled.

Harry shot him an amused look. "What 'we'? You're the only one working here."

The man spluttered for a good ten seconds, though Harry ignored it, moving onto the next broom to 'feel', before finally coming up with a retort.

"I thought saying 'I' would be presumptuous," he said pompously.

"Alright, since you're so eager to help. Tell me your cheapest broom and your most expensive."

Hopscott gave him a wary look. "The Silver Arrow is one galleon, the Fire Comet is 30."

Harry turned to Darcy. "What was your lowest and highest?"

"Two galleons and 40."

"And his brooms are better than yours, right?"

She looked like she had swallowed a lemon, while Hopscott positively preened. His face was even less attractive with all the zits.

"Right. I think I have a fair idea now," Harry said, stepping away from the brooms and heading towards the door.

"W-what? You haven't even read the details on the brooms, sir!" Hopscott called eagerly, obviously trying to keep a customer.

Harry smirked at him, wrapping an arm around Darcy's stiff shoulders. "I don't need to. Your spells are amateur and short-lived. I bet the enchantments on your most expensive broom would only last for a year if they were used by a Quidditch player who practices for hours every day." He felt the sick pleasure of one-upmanship as the words hit below the belt. The zit-faced kid turned puce. "Thanks for nothing." He led Darcy out of the store.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he snickered. "Did you see the look on his face? Now  _that's_  entertainment." In a rather good mood, he apparated them back to his store. He really needed to put wards on the building. Couldn't have just anybody popping in whenever they wanted to.

He yawned as soon as the squeezing sensation stopped. His magic had finished converting, so it wasn't as awkward to use anymore, but he still seemed to have Jetlag… or was it Dimension-lag? Hmm…

"Was all that stuff true? What you said?"

Harry blinked, looking at Darcy. She was almost as tall as him, which made her about average height. And currently she was staring up (sort of) at him with teary eyes. Backtracking mentally, he nearly swore. "Which part?" he asked innocently, trying to cover his ass. When women turned the teary eyes on him, his brain just shut down.

"About his brooms not being all that great? Does this mean we can beat him?"

Harry silently let out the breath he'd been holding.  _Safe._  "Completely. He carves the wood with his wand, the lazy ass, and he's not very powerful magically. He might have gotten creative with your spells and thought up a couple new things, then lowered his prices, but the quality is atrocious. Certainly not what I expected." It definitely wasn't what he expected, but he wasn't sure whether or not this was the actual standard of the day or not. He just knew it wasn't up to  _his_  standard.

"So we can, dare I say it, kick his arse?" She smiled nervously at him.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, and she blushed. "Definitely. Now, help me think up a name for this place that isn't as horrible as Hopscott's Brooms. Bloody hell, how uncreative is that…" he muttered under his breath, heading into the store front.

He didn't see the pleased look on Darcy's face that was quickly covered up by a polite smile.


	4. Chapter 4

"I think it's a great play on your name," Darcy argued the next morning.

Harry ran a hand over his face, three broomsticks sitting on the workbench next to him. Each was made with a different wood, and each had their pros and cons because of it. He still hadn't named them.

When Darcy had 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed over them when she came in that morning, Harry didn't have the heart to tell her he actually had no real experience with broom crafting. He just knew what was good, what sucked, and how to make shit up as he went – or in this case, spells.

"It's tacky. I mean, it's my last name."

"It's great! It implies that it's not just the broom that they want, it's the what's  _beneath_  the exterior that's important! Like good spell-crafting."

Harry had no idea what had her smiling so brightly so early in the morning. Taking another gulp of cold coffee, he shuddered at the taste. He'd only gotten 4 hours of sleep last night. Finding the right kind of wood had been a painful trip through muggle forestry all over the world. He'd managed to find a species guide written in English somewhere in Italy, he wasn't quite sure where exactly, but finding the right trees had been hard. Some just didn't want to be turned into broomsticks, even if they  _were_  just supposed to be muggle trees with no sentience. Ugh. Stupid extramagical sense giving him all this trouble. He knew he'd thank it later, but only after he'd gotten another three cups of coffee into his system. Bless Americans and their coffee. Earl Grey could go hump a tree.

" 'Under the Wood' is  _the_  tackiest play on words I have ever  _heard._  People are going to think I'm some sort of narcissistic freak!"

She finally got fed up with him and slammed her fist on the table. "Harrison Underwood you are keeping this name or so help me I'll curse your sign to read it for eternity!"

He backed down after that.

Next they were on to arguing broom names.

"I honestly don't care what you come up with, but at least pick something that suits their personality!"

She looked at him funny. "And what personality is that?"

"The Yellow-cedar is easy-going, easy to control, slow to change speeds. The European larch is stubborn, but can execute more versatile turning. The Western Juniper is quick to speed up, slow to slow down, and doesn't have that great of turning capabilities. In fact, it downright  _sucks_  at turning."

She stared at him.

"I'd suggest we use the Yellow-cedar for leisure travel, the European larch for Quidditch, and the Western Juniper for long distance travel."

"H-how do you know all this?"

He stared at her like she was crazy. "I test-flew 'em. The Western Juniper almost crashed me into a cliff. Now, names, name-lady. I'm too tired to think up somethin' witty."

He reached for the old pot of coffee he'd 'borrowed' from a muggle shop nearby. Hey, he needed it more than they did. He so needed to buy real coffee, and a real coffee maker. Ugh. He wasn't looking forward to the amount of work it would take to get the thing to run off magic. Hermione had discovered the technique during the war and forced him to learn it so he could insulate the muggle bombs they were sending through Voldemort's wards. She'd been very adamant about having nothing to do with their deployment.

He was thankful for that stubbornness now.

"Well… let's use Straight Arrow for the Juniper, Smooth Bee for the leisure and… Maneuvrability… Nimble Lark?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't care. You like 'em, I'll keep 'em." Since his eyes were closed, he didn't see the pleased light in her eyes. "You wanna brand 'em?"

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Just have to paint it by hand. Any magic y'do'll screw with the charm work an' make it less effective."

Smiling brightly, she apparated away, the crack making Harry's headache worse, and was gone for a couple minutes before reappearing. The brooms looked economical, that was for sure. He hadn't slicked them up with magic like Hopscott did, and so because of the lack of ambient magic floating around and messing with the wood, the charms would last up to five years of constant use.

When he saw her start painting with the army of colours and brushes she'd brought with her, Harry had to admit she had talent. She had an artistic flare that he could appreciate. He could sense no magic in the cans or the brushes, which made him curious. What was a witch doing with muggle paints? Maybe she was Muggle-born. In this time period there was little respect for wizards or witches born to muggle parents. He could understand if she didn't want to broadcast it. She did the Straight Arrow in white, the Smooth Bee in yellow, and the Nimble Lark in blue.

She smiled brightly before blowing on the drying paint. "Is there any way you can make the paint permanent? I don't want it to come off."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Shrugging, he pointed his wand at the brooms one by one and put a charm on them to protect them from weathering, weaving it into the original enchantments. "There. It won't wear off now."

She smiled. "We have our first products! I have to go change the sign!" She bustled out of the room, excitement flowing off of her.

Harry was a little less enthusiastic. Nobody knew his store existed yet, and even if he sold good brooms, sometimes it was a  _name_  that could bite you in the arse. Like the Malfoys. Not much quality to them, but they'd been around for so long people respected them for some stupid reason like blood purity. They didn't know, like Harry knew, that there were at least two Veela in the Malfoy bloodline. They weren't so 'pure'. But no one would ever suggest it.

Picking up his brooms, he went into the front of the shop to clean it up and prepare for customers.

_wWwWw_

They didn't get their first customer until nearly lunch time, which didn't bother Harry much. He'd spent the time thinking of ways to promote his brooms, like getting a well-known Quidditch team to use them. Unfortunately, from the research he'd been doing as he popped in and out of the store to check up on things, most of the present Quidditch teams were using foreign brooms, and the companies producing them actually  _paid_  the teams to use them. It wasn't all about 'who makes the best broom', it was about what companies were willing to pay for their brooms to be used and represented by a name.

It made it quite difficult for any newbies in the business to wiggle their way in.

And so when his first customer of the day came into the quite empty store, Harry was nearly bouncing in excitement, though he tried not to show it. He had to admit Darcy was very good at pretending to do something when she wasn't, which allowed her to get closer to the customer to greet him and offer a smile.

The three brooms were displayed under glass on a counter in the middle of the room. Next to each was information on the wood species, the enchantments on each, and the 'personality' of each.

"Who makes brooms?" the man asked, a polite smile on his face as he approached Harry behind the counter. He had an Italian accent… Harry guessed.

Harry smiled politely. "I do."

"When did you make them?"

"Umm, collect the wood, carve them, or do the charming?"

The man blinked. "Finished."

"Three o'clock this morning."

His eyebrows rose. "How long did all take you?"

"Nine hours."

He made a hmm noise and turned back to the brooms to look at them. Harry wondered if this was how an artist felt when someone was viewing and commenting on their works. He frowned. No, they probably felt worse. He just liked Quidditch for fun, and broom making certainly wasn't a passion of his. To be honest, he kind of missed hunting down Dark Wizards. He needed to start working out again, or he was going to go stir crazy.

Oh well, needed to pay the bills. And feed the mouths of his revolution. Whenever it got started.

"My son is trying for Italian Tigers in week, and broom he has used for past month broke last night."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Really? How'd it break?"

The man looked extremely annoyed. "He nearly fell out of sky, it… stopped."

Harry choked back a laugh, hoping the man mistook it for horror. "Was it a Hopscott?"

Black eyes narrowed. "How you know?"

Harry grinned. "Cuz I checked out that amateur's brooms the other day. They're atrocious. I wouldn't ride one if you paid me. Their longevity is totally overrated."

When the man looked confused, Darcy said something in Italian that made him grin and laugh. When Harry just looked confused, she waved a finger at him. "Stop using that Americanese on our customers! He can't understand half of what's coming out of your mouth!"

Harry had the humility to look embarrassed. "Sorry," he said to the Italian. The man just smiled, the grin still on his face. He tried to clear up his speech. "I would estimate, er, approximate the life of Hopscott's brooms to be about one year if you used it four hours per day. If your son has been using the broom nearly all day for the past few months, it is understandable that the magic in the broom would fade very quickly."

The man nodded, and Harry resisted the urge to blow Darcy a raspberry at her impressed look. "I can be wordy when I want to be!" She rolled her eyes. Turning back to the customer, he said, "If you're unsatisfied with the brooms we have available, I can always make you a custom."

Black eyes lit up, and a jovial smile came to his face. "Certainly! Be appreciated. How much?"

"It depends on how long it takes me to find the tree, how long to do the enchantments, and how much magic it takes. It'll probably be from 30 to 100 galleons. Is money a problem?"

"No problem."

Harry nodded. "What's your name?"

"Battista," the man said with a respectful nod.

"I'm Harry. It'll be best if I meet with your son, then. Can I side-along with you to Italy?"

He looked confused. Darcy rattled something off in Italian and his eyes showed clarity.

"Yes, yes. When?"

Harry looked at Darcy. "Can you hold down the fort till I get back?"

She smirked. "You really have to ask?"

He laughed and hopped over the counter after making sure he would by no means collide with his customer. He held out a hand and was confused when Battista said something quickly to Darcy.

"He needs three points of contact to apparate with you."

"Oh." Harry joined hands with the man made sure his leg was touching the man's calf. They disappeared with a painful squeezing that nearly had Harry throwing up on arrival. Italy  _was_  pretty far away from Britain, though not nearly as far as America. Not everyone could do a cross-atlantic hop like Harry could, after all. So this rather average wizard had barely managed to get them there in once piece. Harry was glad they hadn't splinched.

"Papa!" And the rest was a bunch of words Harry had no chance understanding.

The two men talked for a moment, the younger eyeing Harry dubiously.

Eventually they came to some sort of agreement, and just in time really, as a lady came out with a spatula in hand and fire in her eyes.

Oh dear.

Harry tried to slowly inch behind Battista, but it was not meant to be.

"And you!" she yelled angrily, suddenly switching to English. "How dare you sell such a piece of trash to my son! He nearly got killed!!"

Battista looked alarmed and said something quickly to her, placing a calming hand on her arm.

"Oh. Was not you?" she asked. Harry shook his head emphatically. "Good. Now why are you here?"

"I'm going to custom make a broom for your son."

At that, she got extremely excited and insisted she translate for them.

_wWwWw_

It took Harry nearly six hours of wandering the Italian countryside, but he finally found the right tree to suit Anatoli's specifications. The man was a keeper, so he didn't need to move very far, but he needed to be able to maneuver smoothly and in odd directions. Luckily for his customers, Harry actually knew how to fly,  _well_ , so he knew what he was looking for.

A quick browse through his tree book revealed it to be a Cypress, and it was quite happy about getting out of its forest. Harry didn't know how he knew that. Maybe it was too much meditation, but he was happy that he had finally found a fucking tree that didn't want to rot and nourish the soil. Walking up to the broken trunk, he pulled out his steel saw. The copper coating acted as a buffer between the magic nullifying effects of the steel on the wood.

It took him another three hours to cut the perfect piece out of the tree, letting the rest stay there to 'nourish the soil' or somesuch, and then sand it down to a broom shape.

Nine hours later, hungry and tired from all the physical labour, Harry apparated to the Italian's house and collapsed onto the ground. He needed a breather.

When he heard alarmed voices, he groaned and sat up to assure them that yes, he was fine, and YES, he would LOVE some food and coffee thank you very much. He set the stick carefully against the wall, and next to it, wrapped in twine, he put a bundle of sticks from the dead Cypress. He'd probably take a nap before putting it together. Hopefully nobody would molest him in his sleep.

After dinner the mother bustled him into a guest room with his sticks in his arms and tucked him into bed with orders to rest.

_wWwWw_

He woke at six am the next day, a bounce in his step and ready to get cracking on the new broom. He decided to do it outside, since it was such a gorgeous morning.

Two hours later he came out of his spell casting to find the entire family sitting on the back porch of their house watching him. He almost blushed.

"Is done?" Anatoli asked in excitement.

Harry nodded, holding the broom out to the teen.

Anatoli looked it over and frowned. "Name?"

"Uh… that's sorta Darcy's forte, not mine."

Battista smiled. "Your name."

Harry blinked at him. "You want me to put my name on the broom?"

He got a chorus of yes from the peanut gallery.

Shrugging, he reached over and pulled the pen sitting in Battista's front pocket. Luckily it was muggle felt. Popping off the lid, he wrote H.U., though it came out looking like his chicken scratch. Actually, the H kinda looked like a lightning bolt… Holding his hand over the broom, he closed his eyes and weaved the weathering charm into the enchantments. When he opened them, the family members who had seen looked impressed. Harry mentally berated himself for forgetting to use his wand again.

"Here," he said, handing the broom back to Anatoli.

Deciding to stick around to make sure the broom and master bonded, he was unprepared for the utter disaster that occurred. The jerking of the broom eventually got to the point where he shouted at Anatoli to 'get his ass on the ground before I blast you outa the sky!'

His mother kindly translated for him.

"What in the world are you  _doing?_ " he asked the confused boy, his mother translating at a mile a minute. "You need to work  _with_  the broom, not jerk it around! This isn't a Hopscott!"

Still the poor idiot looked confused.

Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. His eyes resting on the mother, who was staring at him hopefully, he came up with an idea.

"Listen carefully, cuz I'm only saying this once." When the boy nodded, Harry continued. "Do you have a girlfriend? Yes? Good, because maybe now you'll figure this out. How did you get your girlfriend to go to dinner with you? On a date?"

The mother translated: "He brought her flowers and told her how beautiful she was?"

"Exactly! You need to think of your new broom as a woman. She needs to be admired, loved, and  _appreciated._  What would happen if your girlfriend cooked you a huge meal and you told her you don't like pasta?"

The whole family laughed at his response.

The mother translated: "She would, I believe the phrase is, kick his ass?"

Harry smiled. "Exactly. You are doing the same thing to this broom." He held out a hand. "Let me show you how she can be appreciated."

The boy nodded tentatively and handed over the broom. Harry closed his eyes and let himself adjust to the broom. He was used to the shear sophisticated power of a Firebolt, but that didn't mean he couldn't fly another broom. Slipping it between his legs, he let her take him into the air.

The breeze felt divine in his hair, like a long lost friend that had finally returned. He had always missed flying when he'd been forced to hole up during assignments. He'd had to meditate for nearly the whole time to not go crazy. It had helped his patience a great deal.

So he flew her around in a lazy circle, got a feel for the acceleration and deceleration, how well she moved sideways, up and down. Then he started pulling out the weird moves, like diagonally backwards. This broom could actually do it. It could fly  _backwards_  beautifully. Most brooms had to be turned around, but this one was like water, it flowed in whatever direction you wanted it to, but it would never move at the speed of a Firebolt. It wasn't made to.

Getting into it, he stared rotating the whole broom in a circle,  _while_  moving it forward. His Firebolt had never been able to do this either. Getting even more excited, he flipped upside down, wrapping his knees tightly around the handle and let his hands go. He sat still for a moment, before gently urging her to spin. She did. He asked her to suddenly fly backwards to the left and she did, flowing into the motion instead of jerking straight to the destination. She liked taking the smooth way, not the straight way. How interesting. She probably couldn't try a Wronski Feint, though. He always liked doing those. Instead he satisfied himself with flipping back on top of her and doing some barrel rolls to evade invisible enemies. Laughing, he let his legs go and kept her rolling, this time with his legs and body flying through the air. He didn't think he could ever get dizzy in the air.

When he finally sailed back down to earth, he was standing on top of the broom and steering her with his feet. His Firebolt had never been this tame with him, either. It would have tried to shuck him by now.

Jumping off her onto the ground, he smiled when she stayed floating beside him. Turning to the absolutely gob-smacked son and family, he grinned radiantly. "See what I mean?"

_wWwWw_

"How did it go?" Darcy asked in a bored voice from the counter, picking at her nails.

Harry grinned. "Any customers come since I left?"

"Yeah, but they were just browsing. No one actually wanted a broom. Now answer the question, I'm on the edge of my seat! I closed up yesterday at five when you didn't come back, and opened again this morning on time. I better get overtime for this! I'm only supposed to work the morning shift.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, I know. I'm sorry. It took me nine hours to find and cut out the wood."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my."

"Yeah. They let me spend the night at their house."

"So? How'd it go?"

Harry smiled contently, hopping up on the counter and laying down on it. "It was beautiful. You should have seen her, Darcy, she was like water."

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "You met a woman?"

Harry gave her a bizarre look. "No, the broom!"

Now both her eyebrows were in her fringe. "Really now."

"Yep. And he paid me 150 galleons for a job well-done."

Darcy squealed as she jumped out of the chair in excitement. "Really?! Are you serious? They liked it?"

Harry grinned. "Liked it? After I gave them a demonstration of its capabilities, they wouldn't stop feeding me!" Reaching into the bag of gold, he pulled out five galleons. "Here's your bonus."

Her eyes widened in shock. "No, I couldn't. That's far too much!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just take it. You're a part of this business, too, you know. I was missing your artistic influence when they asked me to scribble my name onto the broomstick."

She stared at him. "You didn't."

He closed his eyes in 'pain' and nodded. "I did. It looked horrible."

She looked amused. "I can imagine."

"So are you going to take the money?"

"I suppose."


	5. Chapter 5

Anatoli made the Quidditch team he tried out for. This was good for Harry because it brought a lot more business. He was finally getting a name for himself. And he finally had more than seven brooms on display at a time.

He also got a lot of applications for apprenticeship, which totally threw him the first time it happened.  _Harry?_  Teach someone  _broom carving?_  Riiight. Nobody had the same 'sense' of the trees as Harry did, so eventually he had left a stick sitting in the corner specially for testing wannabe stick carvers, as he was starting to call the profession.

Hopscott went out of business a couple years after Under the Wood opened, as the word spread around that his brooms could die in midair and nearly kill you. Battista and Anatoli might have helped spread that. A bit.

Members of the rich Italian family came to visit once in a while, either to just say 'hi' or buy a broom. Harry didn't get many custom requests, but when he did, he started pulling in 200 galleons or more. Whenever he got a huge amount like this, he liked to give Darcy a bonus for being such a good employee. He knew it must be hard for her to see her old business erased and replaced by his own. She seemed to be having a good time, though. She'd even invited him to her new house in the countryside for a cup of Earl Grey.

He still preferred coffee.

His business was successful for five boring years for Harry before something extraordinary finally happened.

"Excuse me? What's your name?"

The young girl, who had muttered her name into an embarrassed hand, repeated herself softly. "Irene."

"And you want to become a stick carver? Why's that?"

He demurely looked down at the ground and whispered, "Because I like to fly."

"Really. And what do you think of trees?"

"They're peaceful."

Harry stopped what he'd been doing – sweeping the floor – and actually paid attention to the girl. "You like trees?"

She smiled softly. "Yes. We have many behind our house."

'Hmm'ing softly to himself, Harry went over to the dutiful stick that sat in the corner and picked it up. It felt the same as it had the last time someone had asked to be his stick carver. Like it didn't want to be here. The very first wannabe carver had brought him this stick in the hopes that he would take him on as a student. It had only convinced Harry the boy was a lost cause.

Placing it in her hands, he waited for a reaction.

"It wants to go home," she said, the very instant it touched her hands. Then she looked embarrassed and stared down at the floor.

Harry stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted.

"Darcy!" he called, watching Irene with careful eyes when she flinched. It made him wonder. She was pretty young. Probably in her fourth year of Hogwarts. Why did she want a job here? Had she left home?

"What do you want, you crotchety old crab!" she yelled, coming crashing into the room from upstairs. She'd probably been in the middle of casting some spells on the latest project he'd assigned her. She was getting a better feel for the enchanting process, for sure. He was quite pleased with her. He also made her go slowly, so she could put enough power into each spell separately. Because of this, it sometimes took her weeks to finish a broom, but the end result was almost the same quality as Harry's. He bet she'd be as good as him in predicting the flow of the enchantments in a couple more years.

And now he had his little wood sniffer.

"We have our first stick carver. Go draw up the contract."

Darcy stared at the petite blond standing in the middle of the room with the dead stick in her hands.

"And take that stick back to Bristol, it wants to die already."

When Darcy just kept staring, Harry raised an eyebrow. It wasn't until he actually waved a hand in front of her face that she snapped out of it, busily brushing her brown bangs out of her eyes. "Maybe you need a haircut."

"Maybe you need to bugger off."

The poor child in the middle of the room gasped quietly, staring at the two of them with horrified eyes.

Darcy was immediately at her side, wrapping an arm around her and cooing in her ear. Harry had to admit it was creepy. "Don't worry sweetheart, we're always like this. It's our way of showing our affection for one another."

Pale silver eyes glowed up at Darcy. "Really?" she asked, and the sheer hope and wonder in her eyes nearly broke Harry's heart. She turned to Harry after Darcy nodded gently.

Harry mentally sighed and kneeled before the girl. Using a gentle brush of Legilimency, he caught sight of a fist, a dark space, and a forest. She was a runaway alright. He didn't know how she found her way to him, but he found himself deciding then and there that he would let her stay with him, or with Darcy, until she was able to stand on her own two feet.

In the following weeks Harry took Irene with him around the world, teaching her how to apparate and find the trees they were looking for. He found her sheer feel and touch for the forest to be beyond even his own understanding. She could sit still in a forest for five seconds, and immediately know exactly where the tree or stick was that she was looking for. It was phenomenal.

When September came Harry offered to let Irene go back to school, but she refused profusely, telling him with a little of the confidence she had gained since coming there that she enjoyed working with him, and she loved how she could talk to the trees with him and he didn't think she was a freak. That word nearly broke his heart all over again. He knew how that felt.

It took a couple years, but Under the Wood finally had enough business, and her co-operators had enough experience, to be allowed to sail under the power of her own wings. So Harry started looking for another job, or something else to entertain himself now that the money was pouring in. He only took on the most difficult of the custom jobs, and even now he was only doing the charm work as Irene was a much better treehugger than he was.

Once he decided that the girls had learned as much as they could from him, he upped their profits from the selling brooms from 5% each to 10%,  _on top_  of their bi-weekly wages. He told them that he would love to pay them more, but that he needed the money for something great he was planning, and they understood. He loved them for that.

_wWwWw_

Harry frowned from where he sat waiting on the door step. Darcy and Irene, who were now living together since Harry's space upstairs had long since gotten too big for two people, had invited him over for dinner and he found it extremely rude that they  _still_  hadn't answered the door. Getting annoyed, he popped into the entrance hall prepared to give them a piece of his mind when his brain froze. And so did the two women. In a lip lock.

They quickly broke apart, faces aflame and horror in their eyes, and Harry decided that some drastic action was needed to cool this situation down.

Grinning brightly, he cooed. "Aaaw, my little girls are all grown up! How long did it take you to get together, eh? I've been waiting for seven years you know! I expected you to invite me to the celebratory celebration! I hope you didn't forget me." Standing there with his fists on his hips, a friendly smile on his face, he felt the bundle of nerves in him relax when the two women sobbed and latched onto him. He could practically  _smell_  their relief.

"We thought-"

"Everybody always called-"

"Unnatural-"

"Said cruel things-"

"Whoa, calm down girls," Harry cajoled. "Breath. I have absolutely no problem with you two being lovers, or whatever. I happen to be very good with a  _wand_ , myself." He smiled at them slyly.

Darcy was the first to get it. Her eyes widened. "Seriously?! No way!"

Irene looked confused until Darcy explained the double entendre to her. Then she turned red. She quickly excused herself to prepare them some tea.

Harry and Darcy smiled after her. "She's so cute. Now, bitch. Tell me why you left your old man standing outside in the cold for so bloody long."

Darcy had the decency to look embarrassed. "We didn't hear you knock, sorry."

Harry rolled his eyes, muttering stuff like "too busy snogging" just to see the embarrassed pink of Darcy's cheeks as he walked towards the sitting room.

Sitting down with a loud sigh, he gratefully accepted the tea from Irene. The girls knew he liked coffee in the mornings and green tea in the evenings. Caffeine content. Earl Grey could go hug a tree.

"So girls, how's business going?"

They both looked amused at him, as he had been basically jobless for the past two years now, only coming in occasionally to do a custom broom, or a broom that was needed in a  _hurry_. He'd once finished an entire broom, with Irene's expert tree sniffing and carving capabilities, in the fifteen minutes a Quidditch team had managed to get for a timeout. The broom hadn't been a beautiful work of art, but it had served her seeker beautifully for the rest of the match. Said seeker had ended up keeping it afterwards, and the team paid Under the Wood a hefty sum for their speed and quality.

Unbeknownst to Harry, the art of broom crafting had far exceeded its craft in his original world. He remained stubbornly glued to his old Firebolt, however, never making himself a new broom. He would ride it until death did they part.

"It's going well, you jobless bum. The goblins are very happy with the gold we're raking in. I did what you suggested when making the daily deposit with the 'may your gold always flow' thing. They really like us now. They've been asking after you, actually. Apparently you speak Gobbledegook?"

Harry chuckled. Ah, yes. He'd had quite the interesting conversation with his account manager the last time the went to Gringotts.

"How  _is_  the job hunting going, anyway?"

Darcy had never been very patient.

"Still waiting for something worthwhile to come along. I think I may have finally found what I'm looking for."

Even Irene looked interested now. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "The DADA position has recently opened at Hogwarts. I was thinking of applying for it."

Darcy and Irene stared at him in surprise. Darcy was the first to break the silence. "Are you even  _qualified?_ "

Harry pretended to look hurt. "I'll have you know I'm very qualified. Besides, with you girls running the business that will financially back my nefarious plots, I wanted to get a job that I enjoy for once."

Irene frowned. "You never told me you don't like making brooms."

Harry sighed. "No, I didn't, because you like it so much. There was no point in me taking away from your enjoyment of it. To me, stick carving has always been about the business. I like flying, but carving and enchanting sticks isn't my passion." He stared off out the window, imagining all the dark and deadly creatures and beings out there who were hurting people and being prosecuted respectively.

He missed being in the thick of that part of the world. He'd been keeping his eyes, ears, and nose open for Voldemort's activities, but so far the bastard was stubbornly remaining hidden. Harry could even feel when he began creating his horcruxes through his scar (which used to be a horcrux, but was now just a dark magic detector hidden on the top of his head under his unruly mop of hair). He'd felt the dark magic rising, and he'd kept moving his money around wisely, investing in muggle and wizarding businesses alike. He'd had to take a crash course on investing at the University of London to know how to do it, but he was glad he did. For example, he knew what brands of telephone had existed in his own world, so he knew that the business could be successful. He'd invested large amounts of money in electronics, cars, oil, you name it, he'd invested in it. He swore that the money he now had was coming close to what the Potter vault had had when he'd inherited everything.

He was gathering the resources for a revolution. He was still looking for the Hermione to lead it, though. He knew, being a half-vampire himself, that if he lead the gigantic reforms in the Ministry, he would eventually be discovered and all his hard work would fall apart. No, he needed someone entirely human to lead it. Perhaps a pureblood and a muggle-born working together.

Thoughts for another time.

"What is it that you miss?" Irene asked.

Harry looked down at his tea. He knew she could sense it, she was sensitive enough. The deep aching desire buried in the pit of his heart. The ball of emotion he hadn't let himself touch for the past seven years because he was afraid he would lose all drive to move  _forward_.

He just hoped his goals would be realized before he finally burned out. He'd already fought all of this once already, and now he had to fight Voldemort and the Ministry all over again.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Darcy kneeling in front of him, but he couldn't make out her eyes, because his own were filled with… tears? Is that what was blurring his vision?

"I miss Hermione," he choked out, not feeling it when soft hands pulled the cup of green tea from his hands. "She always had the a-answer to everything." Blinking rapidly, he tried to clear his vision, but it had disappeared into a wave of brown hair. Why? Why was he cracking now? He had to be strong. He had to be a rock, if he was to survive this all over again, this time without any of his friends. He whispered to himself, not realizing he was speaking aloud, "I miss them all, but their either dead or gone from me…"

A small body wrapped around his back, and a larger body hugged him from the front, Harry wept for the first time in many years, finally letting go of the frustrations and fears that plagued him.

_wWwWw_

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Underwood?" Dumbledore asked as soon as Harry had walked through the door.

Harry smiled in greeting and glanced at his watch. It was evening. He could suffer some tea. "Yes, please."

He watched Dumbledore do some fancy wand waving, knowing the secret that he was  _actually_  summoning tea from the kitchens, not conjuring it. It had been a technique Dumbledore had used, er, would use? Not that it mattered, but it brought on a wave of nostalgia on Harry's part, sitting in this office as he had so many years ago with the Headmaster's trinkets spread about the place and Fawkes sitting devotedly on his perch. He almost wanted to break into tears right then and there, but knew he couldn't. This was a business meeting, not a reuniting of old, lost friends.

"So you'd like to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry was momentarily taken aback by the straightforward approach. Perhaps he hadn't created his deviation tactics yet. Harry suppressed a snicker. Or maybe he just wasn't barmy yet.

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore. I read about the job opening in the paper, and thought perhaps this would be a good opportunity to return to my passion." Harry smiled congenially.

Auburn eyebrows, laced with a heaping of silver, rose slightly in surprise. "And what are you doing now which is not your passion?"

Harry wondered if Dumbledore would take a broom crafter seriously, but figured it was best to be completely honest with the fellow. He  _really_  wanted this job position. He missed his home, and… there was the coming war that he thought about constantly these days. He wanted to start training the new generation to defend themselves. "Making broomsticks."

Blue eyes widened slightly in recognition. Harry found he missed the full blown twinkle the man had developed in his ripe old age.

"Underwood… Under the Wood… Very interesting, Mr. Underwood. Very interesting."

Harry had a feeling the geezer was teasing him, and he couldn't help but blush and come to his own defence. "It wasn't my bloody idea. Darcy threatened to curse my sign with the name unless I caved." He couldn't help but pout, turning his head to look at one of the many odds and ends contained in the office. There weren't as many as Harry remembered, but Dumbledore still had plenty of time to add to his collection. Since he wasn't looking, he didn't notice the assessing gaze, and the way the blue eyes twinkled slightly in amusement.

"And why is broom making not your passion, Mr. Underwood? Surely you have profited much from the business."

Harry blinked and turned his wandering thoughts away from the tables and walls of the office. "Sure, it's a great way to be financially secure, but it's never been something I would jump in front of a bone-shattering hex to do."

Silvery auburn eyebrows rose in surprise at this, and Harry found himself blushing in embarrassment.  _Why_  had he had to use  _that_  analogy?

"And what would you jump in front of a bone-shattering hex to do?"

Harry looked at him funny. "To protect someone, of course." He was distracted again by the spinning globe with rings around it, and so he missed the look of shock on the Headmaster's face. Looking back on the meeting, Harry would wonder why he remembered so little of it, and the only conclusion he would be able to come to was that he felt  _safe_  with Dumbledore. He felt that he didn't have to watch the man, wary of threat, physical or otherwise. The respect he had gained in his own dimension was colouring his opinion on this other Dumbledore, but he couldn't help it. He had missed the man so dearly.

"I see." Harry snapped out of his daze and returned the smile that was being sent his way. "Perhaps I could see your credentials?"

Harry did a mental 'crap!'. He had his OWLs and NEWTs from America, but there was no other documentation for his 'knowledge' (cough)experience(cough).

Reaching into his pocket, he slowly pulled out his results to give his slow brain some time to come up with a brilliant way out of this mess.

"I can give you my OWLs and NEWTs, but I'd prefer it if you judged my knowledge on my present knowledge and experience rather than what a piece of paper says," he covered his ass, wandlessly waving the copy over to Dumbledore's desk. He didn't miss the surprised look this time, and once again mentally berated himself for forgetting that normal people did  _not_  use wandless magic as carelessly as he did.

Dumbledore put a pair of half-moon glasses on his nose, obviously uncomfortable with them. This made Harry smile. It appeared the geezer wasn't quite used to reading glasses yet, he thought affectionately. Luckily Harry had been able to get laser eye surgery in the muggle world during his training, so he no longer needed to wear glasses. His Commander had nailed into their heads,  _don't be noticed,_ so everyone had pitched together to help those in the group with glasses to get rid of them (and Harry had donated just a little more money to the pot than anyone else).

"These are impressive marks, Mr. Underwood. You said you were home schooled?"

Harry nodded. "Yep. My mother didn't like me leaving her sight, so she was a little over protective." He decided to stick with the story he'd told a long time ago about having to work in a restaurant with his mother for ten years before her death. The numbers had added up close enough in the file, which Harry had memorized upon assuming the identity, so he stuck with what was simple.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "If I may ask, any idea why?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Not really. I mean, I have some educated guesses, but she died before I got the guts to confront her about it. I mean, it was the way things had always been, so I didn't know  _to_  question it."

Dumbledore nodded his head and folded the papers. "I'll ask you a few questions pertaining to the position, and then I have another interview."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Oh sorry, I hope I'm not keeping you."

Blue eyes smiled at him. "Nonsense, nonsense. They can wait a little longer. Now, tell me 20 shields you know, 20 dark curses you have experience with, and 20 dark creatures you know how to deal with. You have five minutes. Oh, and don't forget the details."

As Harry's eyes widened in shock, his mouth was already moving, following the orders of someone who he held in the highest respect. The shields were rattled off in the order of most used to least used, the curses named quickly with short descriptions of their effects, and he only managed to get through 17 creatures in the last two minutes he had. When his brain reached the mental countdown, he stopped halfway through a sentence.

Dumbledore blinked. "Do you only know 17 creatures, Mr. Underwood?"

Harry gave him another funny look. "I ran out of time."

_wWwWw_

Sent away with a polite boot and a short explanation that a letter would be sent to him to tell him if he did or did not receive the job, Harry walked down the stairs to the gargoyle with high hopes. Unfortunately, he met someone he had not anticipated waiting at the bottom.

Voldemort.

Red eyes and everything.

Pain spiked through his hidden scar, instantly giving him a headache. He politely greeted the monster and got a sneer in return. The future Dark Lord pushed passed him without a word, going up the stairs. Once the gargoyle had closed behind him, Harry couldn't help but stand there and massage his scalp where the old curse scar now lay. What had Tommy-boy been up to since Harry had last seen him? How many horcruxes had he made? These were the dark thoughts that plagued Harry's mind as he let himself out of the castle, leaving a confused Minerva McGonagall standing at the gargoyle a couple minutes later, as she had come to escort the 'stranger' to the entrance hall.

It was two days of painful waiting before Harry finally received an owl from Dumbledore.

"Is this it? Is this the response to that new job you applied for?" Darcy asked excitedly after letting the owl in the window. Harry had been visiting her house in the countryside when the owl had found him.

Harry bit his lip nervously as he pulled the letter from the owl's leg. "I dare not open it," he said, mock-seriously, eyeing the loopy green script. It reminded him of his first Hogwarts letter.

"Then give it!" Darcy snatched it right out of his hands, eliciting a gasp from Irene and a look of mock-outrage from Harry. She tore the letter open without a care for whether he wanted to preserve it, and yanked the parchment out, tossing the envelope to the side. Harry summoned it with a wave of his hand, eyeing the torn green script sadly.

"Dear Mr. Underwood," Darcy read dramatically, "I am pleased to inform you that I have chosen you for the DADA position!" She squealed, wrapping her arms around Harry and jumping up and down. "You got the job you always wanted!!"

Laughing, Harry plucked the letter from her grasp before she could crinkle it any further. Gently opening it, he finished reading the loopy green script.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Underwood,_

_I am pleased to inform you that I have chosen you for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position here at Hogwarts._

_Please be aware that all professors are required to send their book list as well as a curriculum outline for all years to Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. I would have liked to give you the last professor's outline, but all of his paperwork has unfortunately undergone a small accident._

_I was somewhat surprised by your application, but I assure you, am very pleased to welcome you on board. I greatly enjoyed our little chat, as I'm sure you enjoyed looking at my plentiful trinkets._  (here Harry groaned out loud, nearly sending Darcy into a frenzy)  _I hope that we can share such discussions again in the future._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

Harry smiled so widely he was sure his face would crack. He folded the letter back and slipped it into its damaged envelope. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he jumped in the air and yelled, "I'M IN!! TAKE THAT!!" and started laughing uncontrollably from joy. The girls joined him, and the evening turned into happy celebrations of laughter, food home cooked by Harry himself, and plenty of whisky to go around.


	6. Chapter 6

Getting an entire course organized with only three weeks notice was not the craziest thing Harry had ever done, but it didn't change the fact that he wished Hermione was here. He didn't want to go to Dumbledore before school even started and make the man he respected think he wasn't right for the job, so he locked himself in the bookstore for days, trudging through volumes and volumes of useless garbage trying to find a book that wasn't all wrong.

He determined after a week of useless searching that he was going to have to write his own series. Which he totally didn't have time for. That just pissed him off. He'd have to teach the entire course from memory. How was he supposed to give McGonagall a book list if there  _WEREN'T ANY BOOKS?!!_  The only decent books in existence he couldn't use because they were called 'dark' by the ministry! He'd bought more useful material from Borgin in the past couple days than he'd come across during his entire time at Flourish and Blotts!

Giving up on the book list, he locked himself in his room above Under the Wood and started sketching out an outline from year one to year seven, having to revise it many times as he made adjustments and remembered things that were buried in the deepest recesses of his mind. It was only thanks to Darcy and Irene that he even ate anything, being so deeply entrenched in his task. He never even noticed the conversations the girls had downstairs after closing time, about how they had never seen him anything but lazy before in their entire life.

It was three days before the beginning of September when McGonagall came crashing in. Figuratively, of course, because Minerva wasn't the type to crash into  _anything_.

"I'd like to speak to Professor Underwood, if you please?"

Harry heard the voice from upstairs and nearly groaned. He still wasn't done revising his outline yet! Letting out a burst of air, he collected his stack of notebooks and the most recent draft of his outline. Might as well get down there before Darcy dragged him out of his pit.

"Coming!" he called down the steps, looking back at the mess that had become of his room during the past week and a half. He was really glad at this point that he had used Muggle notebooks instead of parchment to write in. If he'd used parchment, it would be all over the room now with how many times he knocked things over. Giving his head a shake, he took his stack downstairs to face the music.

McGonagall looked a bit younger than Harry remembered, but she had the same no-nonsense he remembered her for. He'd missed her.

"Mr. Underwood. I have been waiting for your course list and outline for the past two weeks, and have yet to receive anythi…" she trailed off as he dropped his pile of notebooks on the counter, glad she had come right before closing.

He smiled brightly at her, well aware of how he looked in the mirror. Darcy and Irene had been forcing him to take showers by threatening to burn all his books. He'd caved to the devils' wishes, but he still looked awful from the lack of sleep. "Hello, Professor McGonagall-"

"Please, call me Minerva, Mr.-"

"Then I insist you call me Harry." He smiled, knowing he had her trapped. Her lips twitched slightly in amusement, but Harry could only tell because he had known her for so long.

"Very well. Now… what is all of this?"

Harry looked down at the stack of notebooks. "This? This is the course material." She stared at the stack. "And this is my outline. It's almost done." He handed her a small, crumpled stack of papers.

"This is muggle paper."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes? So? Pens and paper are far more easy to deal with than quills and parchment, I assure you. This would be an even bigger mess if there weren't metal coils to hold everything together." He gave one of the notebooks a good whack.

"What about your book list?" she asked faintly.

"There isn't one. I spent seven days in Flourish and Blotts trying to find books that didn't appal me on the deepest level, and failed miserably. So if I manage to last more than a year, I'll be writing my own school series. In the meantime I will provide every student with the material as they require it." He smiled, knowing it was rather worn around the edges. He hadn't had a project like this to bury himself in, in a long time. He'd missed it.

Minerva nodded slowly, still eyeing the stack of notebooks nervously. "Very well, I shall take a copy of the syllabus then."

Harry waved his hand and a duplicate appeared, once again forgetting to draw his wand.

Minerva's eyebrows rose. "Thank you for your time, Harry. You are free to come to Hogwarts any time in the next three days to pick and settle into your new quarters. Have a good evening."

Harry smiled. "You too, Pro- I mean, Minerva."

She nodded and left the store.

Harry felt like falling asleep right then and there.

"Come on, Harry. Let's get you to bed," Irene said softy, gently taking his hand and leading him back upstairs, leaving Darcy to gather the notebooks.

_wWwWw_

Harry looked around his new quarters with a nostalgic smile. He'd been tempted to take Hermione's old rooms, but he knew the constant reminder wouldn't do him any good. So he picked some rooms in a part of the castle where he had always had a hunch the Ravenclaw dormitory was hidden, safely distant from both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

While unpacking he'd received a letter from Dumbledore requesting another meeting, this time to discuss the syllabus McGonagall had brought to him. Harry hoped that that wouldn't be all they talked about, but he knew not to expect anything. Expectations led to disappointments, after all.

"Ah, good morning, Harrison. Is it alright if I call you that?" Dumbledore asked from where he sat behind his desk, a friendly smile on his face.

Harry was staring around the office in shock, as half the trinkets he'd looked at before had been replaced with other things. Had Voldemort had a tantrum like Harry had in sixth year after the death of Sirius? He didn't see why else all the instruments would be replaced.

"Harrison?"

Harry snapped out of it. "Harry, please. May I call you Albus?"

"Certainly." Blue eyes looked at what had caught Harry's attention. "I see you noticed the changes in decoration."

"What happened to the old ones?" Harry asked curiously, already suspecting the answer.

"There was a bit of an accident, I'm afraid. But only things easily replaced were damaged."

Harry suppressed an amused smile, wandering over to the new globe with metal circles swirling around it. He poked it curiously, not noticing the blue eyes closely tracking his movements. It started spinning magnificently, the light bouncing off it to decorate the walls with a pretty pattern. He smiled slightly, and went to the next. "I've always wondered what all these… I mean, items like these do." He looked at Dumbledore, who was watching him silently. "Do they even have a purpose?" He'd never had the opportunity to ask.

Dumbledore smiled mysteriously from where he sitting behind his desk. "Not all. Some are attached to the wards, to inform me if anyone is fatally injured, while others are simply curious."

Harry pointed at his favourite, the globe. "What's this one do?"

"It's job…" Dumbledore began somewhat dramatically. "Is to be shiny."

Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Of course. I might've known."

"Would you like a spot of tea?" Dumbledore asked, pulling out his wand with a questioning look.

Harry found himself surprised. Had Dumbledore actually forgotten to give the customary offer of tea the moment he came through the door? Before, he had been well known for offering you tea even if you had come blasting through the door with Dementors on your tail. He must have gotten side-tracked.

"Do you have coffee, perchance? It's too early in the morning to be thinking clearly." Harry grumbled the last bit, collapsing into a plush chair. He closed his eyes and sighed in content at the cushiony feeling. Now, with his caffeine fix, everything would be right in the world.

He knew the instant coffee was in the room, as the delectable mixture teased his sensitive nose. He found it floating a foot away, and snatched it out of the air. Putting it under his nose, he took a nice long sniff and let his eyes close in pleasure. He took a testing sip. His eyes snapped back open in surprise. "This isn't half bad. Thanks." He smiled, taking a longer sip of the black mixture.

Dumbledore looked amused. "So, Harry. I heard from Minerva that you were having difficulties finding proper reading material for your students?"

Harry groaned and took another sip of coffee to appease himself. "You have no idea how atrocious the selection was, Pro- Albus. And I  _mean_  atrocious! It made me want to rip them all apart, take the decent pages from each, and stick them all into one binding." He shuddered. "I mean, any hunter worth their salt knows that the only way to kill a vampire is through  _beheading_ , not any of that wooden stake or garlic crap. That's muggle folk-lore. And how to deal with Nagropucks, which suffocate children in their sleep. One does  _not_  put Alfosbane around the bed of the child, you'll start attracting bloody Narkbeetles!" He shook his head. "It's simply abominable what they'll print these days. Just because you can string three words together does not mean you are qualified to write a book on dark creatures!" He took another angry sip of coffee.

Dumbledore looked positively  _amused_. "Do you have a solution for this lack of educated textbook writing?"

"I've been collecting books from Borgin," here two auburn eyebrows rose, "and taking out all useful defence information I can find. I'm planning on writing the textbooks for each year during my free time. Oh, and don't tell anyone that Borgin has books. It took me 30 minutes of threatening him with dark curses to get him to let me see them. I'd hate for him to go out of business. Some of the stuff he has isn't all that dark."

Dumbledore had an unreadable look on his face. "And what if children are getting their hands on those books?"

Harry immediately thought of Tom, and knew Dumbledore probably was too. "There's nothing you can do to stop those who are attracted to the dark from going after it. They'll always find what they're looking for, whether it's in a dead dark wizard's library or a bookstore. We can only hope to educate them in the dangers of the darkness before it's too late for them."

Dumbledore still looked troubled. "But what if you want to stop such a child? What if you want to save them?"

Harry knew the older wizard wouldn't like his response to that. While some dark wizards were capable of controlling and directing their addictions away from the harm of others, some were not so capable. His job had been executing the solution to such a problem. Killing them. "You can't save everybody, Albus," he whispered. "Every person has a right to make their own choices."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Harry reminded himself to get Dumbledore a tin of lemon drops for his birthday. When  _was_  his birthday, anyway? And how old  _was_ he? Maybe Harry would have to settle for giving Dumbledore a Christmas gift until he could dig into the Ministry records and figure it out.

Harry was perfectly comfortable to sit there for hours, just drinking in the atmosphere of the office, but it was not meant to be.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it seems I have a guest arriving shortly," Dumbedore said, his twinkle resuming after their rather depressing topic.

Harry nodded and stood, putting his near-empty coffee cup on a side table. "Should I assume that my syllabus is acceptable? And that I can just hand the students the notes as they need them?"

"Yes, yes. Of course. I will entrust it all to your capable hands." Here Dumbledore stood and walked around his desk, confusing Harry. He held out a hand.

Harry smiled and shook it, hiding his surprise at the spark of magic that ran up his arm from the contact. He gently removed his hand from the grip. "Thanks for hiring me."

Dumbledore smiled jovially. "It was my pleasure."

Harry nodded respectfully and turned to leave the room, feeling blue eyes settle on his back.

_wWwWw_

Harry had a devious plan.

Currently he was sitting on his desk at the front of his classroom, watching his new seventh years talk about girls, lunch, and Quidditch. One of the first thing Harry had noticed about the difference in the times was the fewer number of students. This made for an even smaller class of all four houses doing their NEWTs for that year.

Since all of his upper year classes were on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, he'd devised a plan to shock them out of their lethargy, and then he would give a toned-down demonstration of the same thing for the younger years on Thursday and Friday.

Unfortunately for the students, he'd been up all night (missing the sorting) double and triple checking all his notes and making sure he was organized for the first month of classes. The house elves had run out of coffee at 3 am, so he'd had to make runs into London to buy a decent cup. And then he'd missed breakfast because he was searching for the perfect espresso in Brazil.

Because he was in such a terrible mood, he'd devised  _the_  most  _scandalous_  way to shock his poor little students.

With a flick of his wand, he let the invisibility spell drop and barked out, "SIT DOWN AND SHUDAAAP." The class went quiet as they stared at him in stupefied horror. Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He'd cast a glamour on himself that aged him 70 years and gave him a patched eye, reminiscent of Moody. Another charm had disguised his voice to sound like the gnarly appearance he wore.

He continued with his charade. "I'm old! And I've been pulled outa retirement to teach you little fuckers, so PAY ATTENTION!" No one made a sound. Harry didn't know if the looks of scandalous shock on their faces was from his language or his manner. He suppressed a snicker.

"That's better." With a grunt, he eased off the desk and onto the ground, his 'wooden' leg making a crack as it hit the ground. Harry had been taught by the best, after all. Making a glamour that interacted with the real world was a piece of cake after the brutal training  _he'd_  gone through.

"Now. Whoever can tell me what garbage the last teacher taught you for the last six years gets 20 points for their house."

When nobody raised an arm, he narrowed his eyes. "One point from every student for being utterly spineless."

Shocked gasps of outrage spread through the room, but slowly a couple hands rose into the air. He nodded at the one closest to him, who had put his hand up first. "Name and house."

"Sean McFinny, sir. Slytherin."

Harry couldn't keep his eyebrows from going up. A  _Slytherin_  with a  _spine?_  And his name didn't sound pureblood, so he must be a muggle-born or a half-blood. Probably got a lot shit for it, in that house.

"10 Points to Slytherin for growing a spine. Now, Mr. McFinny, would you care to tell this old man what you've learned so far?"

He nodded nervously, but his shoulders had straightened somewhat after his initial scare. He gave Harry a quick run-down of 'Professor Kirtlebin's' old syllabus, and Harry was mildly impressed, but mostly disgusted. The man had had half a brain, at least, though obviously no real experience. The textbooks he'd picked had at least been the less horrible ones. They had actually contained at least half correct information.

"Thank you Mr. McFinny. That's 20 points to Slytherin."

And so he had to almost scrap his outline, because some holes and misinformation in their education were so glaringly painful he had to attempt to correct them first. The first class became more of a discussion of past lessons as Harry tried to correct the worst damage. He didn't hand out any notes for that day, but he did give every student a copy of the 'minutes' he was recording for himself. That way they would know what they had talked about and be able to review the discussion.

"I want a one foot essay on dealing with common house-hold creatures that can be dangerous. If you have to, get creative. Thinking for yourself gets you extra points. Dismissed!"

_wWwWw_

The rest of his classes for the day were similar. Rumours spread quickly, and soon everyone was both terrified of his classes and eager to see him in person. It wasn't until supper time that Harry actually went to the Great Hall.

The look on Minerva's face would stay with Harry for the rest of his life.

Dumbledore just twinkled. It wasn't the level of twinkle Harry was used to, but it warmed his heart to see it.

"Good evening, Mr. Underwood," Dumbledore greeted, just loud enough that the entire hall could hear him, but not so loud that you could accuse him of doing it on purpose – which he was.

"Evenin', Headmaster," Harry gruffly greeted back, slipping into the chair on the man's right which was, for some reason, empty. Minerva was on the man's left. He wondered if this had been planned, or if they did it with all the new teachers.

"I trust your first classes have gone well?"

Harry got a full on twinkle right in the face. Oh, Dumbledore was amused all right. "They're not hopeless, if that's what yer askin'," Harry said gruffly, reaching for a chicken leg and stuffing it in his mouth. He sent Dumbledore a quick message via Legilimency, basically saying 'if you want in on the joke, do this'.

Dumbledore made a thoughtful 'hmm'. "Isn't there something you're forgetting, Mr. Underwood?"

Harry pretended to be surprised, glad that Dumbledore was going with his charade. The man had always turned a blind eye to pranks in the other dimension, so Harry had hoped he was the same closet prankster here.

"Oh. Right." And with that, he gave the students a show and let the glamour evaporate into smoke around him. Casting a subtle sonorous on himself, he said to the Great Hall. "Things aren't always as they appear to be. This applies to Dark Arts, magical beings, and even your fellow wizard. Whoever remembers this lesson when I ask next class automatically gets 20 points."

Enjoying the shocked looks on everyone's faces, he dug into his chicken leg.

_wWwWw_

"That was quite the performance, Harry," Minerva commented at the faculty meeting later that night.

Harry grinned, a giant cup of coffee in his hands. "Thanks!"

"Can I ask what prompted it?"

Harry noticed that most of the faculty were pretending that they weren't listening just as eagerly as Minerva. He hid an amused smile by taking another gulp of coffee. When he noticed that his hands had a slight tremor, he glared down at them. "I've been awake for 36 hours. I was in a bad mood this morning."

She, along with some other teachers, choked on their tea.

"It's almost gotten to the point where coffee doesn't help. I'm going to need 12 hours sleep tonight," he commented, more to himself than anyone else. Since he had a class at ten the next morning, he calculated that he'd have to go to bed right after this meeting.

"Hopefully this meeting won't keep you too long, then," Dumbledore said jovially as he came through the door. Most of the faculty greeted him with either words or smiles. He sat down on a comfy chair by the fire. "For those of you who haven't met him yet, this is Harry Underwood," Dumbledore said, and then introduced the rest of the staff. Harry nodded a pleasant greeting to all. "Our first meeting of the year is normally a social affair, but sometimes there is business that must be taken care of. Is there anything someone would like to bring to the attention of all?"

Harry proceeded to watch with fascination as the teachers discussed students and teaching for the next half an hour. They talked about trouble students, bullies, home-sick first years, and even recent political shifts. Some of it interested Harry, but most of it was only paid half-attention to. He  _was_ extraordinarily tired.

"Harry?"

The new professor snapped out of his half-asleep state to see that some of the professors had shifted around the room, getting tea or moving closer to the fire as the temperature cooled. Dumbledore had moved to sit beside him in one of the plush chairs the farthest from the fire. Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"You needn't stay any longer if you're tired. Unless you want to place a bet on which house wins the House and Quidditch Cup." His eyes twinkled in the firelight.

Harry choked on a sip of cold coffee. He stared at Dumbledore, wide-eyed. "The professors have a  _betting pool?_ "

The Headmaster laughed. "Yes. It's something of a tradition."

Harry thought about it for a second. From what he remembered of his history, Griffindor didn't really make a comeback until his father joined the Quidditch team… "I'll bet that Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup and… Ravenclaw gets the House."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Why Ravenclaw?"

Harry gave him a bizarre look. "They're bookworms. They get all the points in claaa-" A huge yawn interrupted him. "Jeez. I really need to go to bed." He tried to stand and almost stumbled as the room tilted around him. Dumbledore placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Blinking rapidly, Harry watched as the world came back into focus. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just got dizzy for a second. Really need sleep."

Dumbledore nodded, eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern. "I'll escort you to your rooms."

Harry blinked slowly. Dumbledore had really blue eyes. "You sure? You don't have to. And what about the bets?"

The Headmaster chuckled lightly as he pried the coffee cup from Harry's fingers and then led the younger wizard from the room. "I'll give our bets to Minerva later."

"Minerva? Seriously? She doesn't seem the type."

Dumbledore hummed.

It took them ten minutes to get Harry back to his rooms with the wizard tripping over his own feet. He probably would have walked into every statue in the castle before finding his rooms if Dumbledore hadn't been there.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Harry murmured the password to the portrait. "Thanks for your help." He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. How often did one get stoned off tiredness and get escorted to their rooms by  _Dumbledore_  of all people? He'd totally made an ass out of himself.

"It was no trouble. I trust you can get yourself to bed without falling on anything?"

Harry laughed, and it sounded fake to his own ears. "Er, yeah. Sure. Sorry for being such a pain."

Dumbledore chuckled softly and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Warmth spread from the contact. "It was no trouble, Harry. Have a good sleep."

The blue eyes were really close, and Harry had to blink to clear his mind enough to come up with an answer. How come he always felt some sort of energy when Dumbledore touched him? Did it happen when two powerful wizards came into contact with one another? "Thanks. Good night." He stumbled into the room, already feeling the loss of that touch.

Frowning to himself, he turned his clothes into nightwear and collapsed onto his bed. How bizarre. He was sure Dumbledore had touched him plenty of times before without the kind of effects he was experiencing now.

He never came up with an answer, as sleep came to swallow him whole.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S.O.L. means Shit Outa Luck.

Harry woke up the next morning with a roaring headache and an urgent need to take a piss. He dealt with the latter problem first, and a quick pepper-up potion took care of the first.

"You should lay off the caffeine, dearie. It's not good for your complexion," his mirror helpfully supplied as he shaved his face with a spell and brushed his teeth.

He gave it a weird look. "Do I look like the kind of man to need beauty advice? 'Specially not this early in the morning. You're S.O.L. until a chick decides to move into my rooms,  _dearie_."

The mirror gasped. "How rude!"

Harry grinned. "Oh, this is completely polite. Rude would be to curse you to tarnish the colour of mustard for the rest of your unnatural life."

He left the room before the hunk of tin could conjure a response.

He yawned and stretched, absently casting a  _tempus_  charm to check the time. He had enough time to get dressed and eat. He'd have to start his morning workout tomorrow, now that he was actually in the business of defence again. He'd been getting slack in his broom-making old age. Or whatever.

When he went down to breakfast, most of the students were already there and stuffing their faces. If Harry had planned on eating a full breakfast, he'd probably be late to his class like half the students here. Luckily, three glasses of water to rehydrate and a cup of coffee for wakefulness were all he needed. The toast would just be extra.

"Good morning, Harry!" Dumbledore greeted cheerfully, his right-hand seat mysteriously vacant once again.

"'Morning, Pr- Albus."

"Pralbus. Very interested name. I think I'll keep it." He smiled, a slight twinkle to his eyes. Harry gave him a weird look. "You seem quite set on calling me Professor, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Habit, sorry."

"Which is precisely why I find it odd. I've only ever told you to call me Albus, so why would you default to 'Professor' so often?" A wicked gleam had entered the man's eyes.

Harry suppressed his instant 'oh-shit' instinct and let his assassin's bull-shitting face take over. He knew from experience that his face was now nothing more than innocent confusion. The kind of innocent confusion he would give to a target after he bumped into him or her in the subway before shoving a blade up their ribs and into their heart. "Really? Hmm… well, I did have a teacher once who looked quite like you. He hadn't accomplished quite so nice a beard, though." Harry smiled. Like me, like me, forget that you don't know anything about me.

Dumbledore 'aah'ed, as if that explained everything. Mission accomplished.

Harry reached for the water first, just as he'd planned, and gulped it down in seconds. When it refilled a moment later, he drank it. And the next. Only after the third did he move on to the coffee and proceed to down  _that_  mixture after casting a wandless cooling charm on it. There we go. Now he was actually ready to pretend to be a normal defence teacher that wasn't trained to be one of the top assassins in the world. Phew.

And now the bonus. Toast.

Which was how he found himself, quite unintentionally, looking like an idiot when the professor on his right tried to engage him in conversation only to find he had nearly shoved a whole piece of toast into his mouth.

Oops.

_wWwWw_

Class proceeded rather… hectically, for the first month. It didn't take long for Harry to adjust to the pace, but he found himself incredibly annoyed by the incompetence of past teachers. He was teaching some of the same material in every year, when some things should have been covered already before  _seventh_  year. He found that the graduating class was his most difficult, as he had to prepare them for their NEWTs as well as the  _war_  that was going to happen in the next two decades. Which made him start thinking about his plans to deal with Tom.

He sighed, sipping from a tumbler of brandy as he sat in front of the fire in the teachers' lounge. He doubted anybody would come in and bother him this late at night. Besides, the lounge had the best chairs besides Dumbledore's office.

Tom. From what he knew of the timeline, Tom began his crusade in the 70s, but it was only the 50s right now. That meant the kid would spend the next twenty years frolicking with the darkest dregs of wizarding society. Harry didn't know when he wanted to take him out of the picture. The wars, both of them, had been horrible. They had both brought his old wizarding world into a new age, though. It took a lot of work, but magical creatures had finally been acknowledged as magical beings, and since most of the pureblood families had been wiped out in the war, the prejudice that had been bred into past generations had finally come to an end.

This wizarding world needed it. A catalyst like Tom to get the ball rolling. In the 21st century,  _muggles_  had been more advanced than their supposedly 'superior' counterparts. With his little trip to the past, or dimension hop, or whatever, Harry had to go through this trying process all over again. How did he know if he was making the right decision, not killing Tom as soon as he'd come to the past? He didn't. But based on his previous experience, he hoped that he'd be able to help shape this new world into something he could be proud to live in.

"Your face is far too serious for a Friday evening, my friend."

Harry started, and was immediately angry with himself for not noticing the older man's presence sooner. He tried to smile up at him in greeting, but it obviously fell short when the concern didn't leave pale blue eyes. "Hey Albus."

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore greeted as he sat down in a arm chair on the opposite end of the fire. The strategic part of Harry's mind noted that the angle enabled the man to easily watch Harry's face while not having to move his head and  _look_  like he was observing. "Now, what is it that troubles you on the night before a Hogsmeade weekend."

Harry snorted. Oh right, because he should be  _so_  excited about having to watch the little blighters for a whole day, since this month  _he_  was on babysitting duty. The only bright side was that Minerva would be there as well to have intelligent conversation with, and Slughorn would be there looking disgruntled. How he loved to poke fun at the bumbling potions master. Not that there was anyone to share his jokes with. 'Hey, there's the idiot that showed the future Lord Voldemort what a horcrux was! It really was hard to kill that bastard, wasn't it?' Yeah. That'd blow over sooo well.

Dumbledore was looking at him with even more concern. Crap. He'd been thinking to much, and now his silence made him suspicious. Now he actually had to  _tell_  the man something, because you couldn't be quiet for that long only to say "Nope! Nothing!" It made you look  _really_  sketchy. Assassin lesson 1.0.2: Don't look  _suspicious!_

Harry racked his mind for a simple, slightly truthful excuse that could get him out of this situation… Hm… What's the best way to inspire pity? "My friend died around this time a couple decades back." Phew. Now, which friend  _did_  die around this time? Because he was pretty sure lots of people had been dying at one point… Neville. Yes, Neville died in November. He'd been part of a scouting parting sent to locate which forest the Death Eaters had been camping out in while they wiped out local muggles. Because of a stupid, drunk squadron leader who couldn't handle the pressure, he'd died saving the lives of 15 phoenix soldiers.

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said a few moments later.

Harry shrugged, trying to ignore the hole in his chest from all the dead comrades… the loss of Hermione. "Don't be. Had nothing to do with you. And he died a good death, I suppose, saving lives." He sighed, and muttered, "good death my arse." Though, it was better than dying a stupid death, like the squadron leader who had run away at the sight of the Death Eaters and ended up tripping into a ravine. Harry had been very angry when he found out such an incompetent man had been entrusted with his men's lives. Every leader after that incident had been required to see Harry weekly for a quick psych evaluation. Harry would never know what to tell a girl to think if her parents split up and she was having blame issues, but he knew a breaking man or woman when he saw them.

"Nevertheless, I am sorry for your loss, Harry."

Harry looked up from the fire, his brooding interrupted once again. Dumbledore was still watching him, a calculating, yet, concerned look in his eyes. This was the man who would create the Order in the next twenty years. This was the man who had died and left Harry alone to fight the never-ending war.

Perhaps it would end sooner, this time. Perhaps  _Harry_  would end it sooner this time.

Which brought him back to his plans to bring magical creatures into the light of equality. The society existing today was incapable of such a leap. It had only been after nearly  _fifty years_  of war, total, that wizarding society had changed enough to facilitate the birth of the new age.

He felt like he was in a Star Trek movie or something. Which made him realize exactly how sad it was that one of the only pop-culture references he knew was  _Star Trek_. He'd have to do something about that. Maybe get Dumbledore addicted to soap operas. Wait, no. Eugh. Was TV even invented yet?

He smiled at Dumbledore, just slightly. Not a real smile, but the smile that would communicate with words 'I understand' and 'Thanks'. The message was received, and the two sat in comfortable silence for some time afterwards.

Harry never did ask Dumbledore how he found Harry that night. To him, it didn't really matter. Though, if he were to think about it seriously, he would probably come to the conclusion that Dumbledore had the portraits on payroll, or something equally Headmaster-ish.

_wWwWw_

Hogsmeade.

Harry cursed as he was nearly knocked over by an overly eager third year rushing to the newly budding Zonkos. Was he like that in third year? Hmm, no. He'd been sneaking around under an invisibility cloak. Running around like a headless chicken wasn't conducive to being  _sneaky_.

And Minerva was looking far too amused. 'I foresee terrible pranks in your future!' Trelawney's voice sounded in his head. Minerva was beginning to look worried. Oops, better slip that evil grin off his face. He smiled at her innocently and turned his attention back to the devils swarming around him. He was supposed to be the dearly-feared new Defence teacher! Where had the fear and respect of his awesome powers gone?

"Don't like children, much?"

Harry turned around to see Minerva. Hadn't the evil smirk warned her off already? "If I didn't like children, I wouldn't be  _teaching,_ Minerva." Ku _duh_.

She gave him that tight-lipped not-smile of hers that  _he_  knew meant she was trying to bite back a laugh. "Of course,  _Harry_. I just meant that you appear to be a little out of your depth."

Harry brightly smiled at her. "Why  _thank you_ , Minerva, for offering to cover my Hogsmeade duties for the rest of the year! I'll be sure to tell Albus as soon as we get back." When her face slackened with a mixture of surprise and horror, Harry inwardly cheered. Harry: 1, Minerva: 0.

He ran off after the kiddies before she could come up with a clever retort and get herself out of it.

He was relaxing in the Three Broomsticks, sipping on a red currant rum he'd glamoured to look like a butterbeer (why get caught drinking on the job if you don't have to?), when Dumbledore sat down across from him. He blinked, slowly.  _Another_  surprise visit from the Headmaster? Not that he didn't appreciate the man's company, but they seemed to be running into each other a little… often.

"'Evening, Albus." Harry smiled. He only had to suffer Hogsmeade for one more hour, and then he was free. The rum helped.

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "Good evening, Harry!"

"What brings you to Hogsmeade on this grey, leaf-strewn day?" It was fall, after all. Heh. He rhymed. Twice. 'You know you're buzzed when you notice rhyming in your own head,' he thought to himself, suppressing a snicker.

"I was just writing some letters when I looked out the window and saw what a beautiful day it was. I just had to go for a walk, so I decided to come and visit Hogsmeade." Dumbledore smiled.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'He's getting codgier. Is that even a word? Hmm… maybe I should use barmy instead.' "Really? How nice."

He was still smiling. "I thought so."

Madam Rosmerta chose that moment to come by, and Harry got a few more moments alone with his thoughts before Dumbledore had turned his attention entirely back to Harry. Would he see through the glamour? Would he care if he did? If he did, would he say anything? Harry cut off his worrying with a strong mental boot to the arse. 'No point in freaking yourself into acting suspicious,  _idiot_ ,' he thought to himself, smiling blithely at his employer. "How went the letter-writing?"

"Hm? Oh, very well. Very well indeed. You see, I've been playing this game of chess with an old friend for the past couple years, and I finally received his latest move in the mail."

Harry stared. No. Way. Was that the game Dumbledore was  _still_  playing when  _Harry_ had gone to school? "I see," he said faintly, taking a looong sip of his rum – er, butterbeer. "And how is that going for you?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Very pleasant indeed. I will probably contemplate my next move for the next week before sending him a reply."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you play a game with someone  _not_ hundreds of miles away?"

Dumbledore actually  _pouted_. "Minerva won't play with me anymore."

Both his eyebrows rose, this time. "And why's that?"

"Because I keep winning."

Harry snickered, and Dumbledore looked like someone had kicked his puppy. But Harry could see that calculating glint behind the twinkling eyes. It was no surprise that Dumbledore kicked arse at chess. He'd turned the  _world_  into a chess game in the future. Harry had despised that part of the man after he'd died, but there hadn't been much point in getting angry at a dead man when he had a war to win. He wasn't sure if that character flaw still bothered him. Maybe this time he would be able to do some counter-moves. Oh well, might as well let the bored old codger win this fight. "I'll play against you."

Blue eyes lit up. "Really? Splendid! How does tonight sound? After dinner?"

Harry's lip quirked. "Shall I meet you in your office?"

"Yes, yes. See you then," he smiled, scooped his butterbeer off of Rosmerta's platter as she came to deliver it, and escaped the bustle of the Three Broomsticks.

Harry shook his head at the man. Masterfully manipulated, he was. He could smell it on the air. But now he was going to play back.

He smirked to himself and sipped on his rum.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry never wanted to go to Hogsmeade  _ever again_. He was sooo not letting Minerva maneuver her way out of taking his monthly duty. He shuddered. Just the  _thought_  of that stupid sixth year who had gotten roaring drunk  _ten minutes_  before they were supposed to head back to Hogwarts… He'd wanted to slap some sense into the kid. There had been  _two teachers_  in the Three Broomsticks. Did the idiot not think they'd notice?

Of course, Harry ignored the fact that he'd been on his fourth drink, and hadn't been much better off than the kid. He just faked sobriety better. What could he say? He had the skillage. Or maybe it was just practice…

But the look on Minerva's face when the kid had upchucked on her beautiful purple robes had been  _far_  worth the inconvenience of the  _entire day_.

Now dinner was almost over, and Harry had to remind himself of the chess date he had with Dumbledore. The older man had already retired to his office (apparently Headmasters actually had work to do? Who'd a thunk?), so Harry was alone when he wandered the long way around to the gargoyle. He had to admit, he had missed Hogwarts' halls when he'd been working in America. The monthly trips to see Hermione just hadn't been enough. He'd never feel more at home than he did in this old, quirky castle.

When he finally found himself in front of the gargoyle, he stared at it for a few minutes to see if it would open on its own. Apparently he wasn't that lucky. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he started listing off every single candy he knew, though he was pretty sure most of the ones he knew hadn't been invented yet.

Five minutes of no success, and Dumbledore  _finally_  opened the bloody gargoyle. He glared at the man, who looked far too innocent.

"There you are! I was wondering if you'd forgotten," he said jovially, blue eyes sparkling.

Harry scowled. "I'm sure you are very aware of the fact that I've been standing down here for the past five minutes, codger."

Dumbledore had the audacity to look  _hurt_. "Why, I would never do such a thing!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You are so full of it," he grumbled and pushed past the amused man, yanking his beard as he went.

"Hey!" Dumbledore cried out indignantly.

Harry raised an eyebrow as the staircase began to rise. "You left me waiting for  _five minutes._  Not a good start to the evening, Albus."

Dumbledore thoughtfully pulled on his beard. "I am sorry, there was some business that I had almost finished when the wards alerted me to your arrival. Though, I must admit I'm curious. Why the sweets?"

Harry stared at him. "What  _is_  your password?"

"Red currant rum." He smiled blithely.

Harry felt a toad lodge itself in his throat. "Indeed," he choked out, inwardly berating himself. 'Oh, smooth, Potter. Very smooth.' The voice reminded him of Snape. He shuddered at the thought.

The stairs stopped moving and Harry got off, leading them into Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster had set up a chess set between two comfortable chairs by the fire, and a tray of sweets, tea, and (thank god) coffee was set on an adjacent table.

"If you're more amenable to spirits, I also a selection you could choose from." Dumbledore smiled brightly as he pointed Harry towards the chairs. Was he supposed to pick a which chair? The booze comment had thrown him, so he sat down on the black side without much thought. Ron had always wanted to go first, as Harry hadn't been very good at chess until the fifth year after they graduated. Now Harry was glad Ron had forced him to do it. The game had only helped him moderately concerning real-life battle situations, but now this skill would enable him to at least  _play_  Dumbledore although he likely wouldn't  _win_.

Dumbledore was still smiling. "You prefer black? Normally my opponents choose white."

Harry blinked. "I'm used to black, so I'll stick with that."

The older man nodded thoughtfully as he sat down and prepared some tea. As he stirred the sugar in with one hand, he moved a pawn two paces forward with the other. The game had begun.

Three cups of coffee, two pumpkin pies, and one glass of brandy later found Harry losing, badly, and really not caring. The conversation was worth being made a fool out of.

"So, Albus, what's your favourite colour?" He only asked it to throw the man, not knowing that it would turn their chess-match into a very interesting evening indeed.

Amber eyebrows rose in surprise. "Blue. And you?"

"Purple."

Dumbledore blinked.

"Just kidding. I wanted to see the look on your face. Black's my favourite colour."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Why black?"

Harry shrugged. "I dressed in black for most of my job, and I had a close friend whose name was Black, so it sorta stuck. Why blue? Why not yellow?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Blue is a good colour. We see it every day, and it can remind us of a clear blue sky or the chaotic churning of the sea."

Harry shrugged. That was as good an answer as any, really. "Your favourite animal?"

"Phoenix."

Harry smiled. He should have guessed.

"Not going to ask me why?" Dumbledore looked genuinely curious.

Harry grinned. "You have a bird perch next to your desk."

"Aah. You?"

"Hippogriff."

Amber eyebrows rose. "Really? Why?"

"I had a really cool Care of Magical Creatures teacher. He got sacked, unfortunately, but not before I got to ride one. That was a cool year."

"Hmm…"

They traded a few more moves, and Harry had to admit Dumbledore was  _good_. Even better than Ron. It was taking almost every ounce of concentration to not lose in the next few minutes. The leftover ounce was committed to the conversation.

"What's your favourite dish?" Dumbledore asked as Harry narrowly escaped a checkmate.

"Hmm…" Harry had to think about that for a second. "Dunno, really. I've never tried anything exotic. My favourite normal dish would probably be a hearty chicken and mash potato dinner." He really missed Molly Weasley's cooking. She had survived the war, but most of her children and her husband hadn't been so lucky. Or was it unlucky? Hermione and he had made it a tradition to spend every major holiday they could with her, so she could cook her huge meals and the table would be half-full. She'd been devastated.

He missed the calculating gleam in Dumbledore's eyes as Harry tried to think up his next move and not get totally creamed. "What about you?" he asked when he finally made a move.

"I like Greek food. I'm afraid I can't bring myself to choose a favourite, though," the Headmaster bemoaned.

"Hmm… Oh, I just remembered. I got Minerva to agree to take over all my Hogsmeade weekend duties. Don't let her get out of it, okay?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "That won't do you much good, I'm afraid. She can be slippery when she wants to."

"That's why I need your help. We can trick her into signing a contract."

They both laughed. "I will endeavour to alert her to her new duties, but I take no responsibility for the claws that will befall you."

"Agreed."

Harry chuckled, moved a piece, and frowned when Dumbledore didn't take the obvious route that would have Harry losing in three turns. "You know, you don't have to dance circles around me to drag out the game. We can always play another."

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "Really?"

Harry smirked. "I've been getting my arse kicked in chess for years. I'm not going to suddenly stop playing."

"Checkmate."

Harry looked down at the chessboard in surprise.

Dumbledore was still smiling.

"Ouch. Well, now that the kiddie gloves are off, how about you break out the spirits? I could use some liquid courage," Harry grinned as Dumbledore chuckled and summoned some booze form the liquor cabinet. "If I'm gonna get my arse kicked, might as well enjoy the kick."

He found himself immensely enjoying the rest of the evening. He even managed to not get so smashed that Dumbledore had to escort him to his rooms again, which to him was an amazing accomplishment. As he was walking down the halls at 1 AM Saturday night (or was it Sunday morning?), he really wished he knew a drinking song. Maybe Dumbledore knew one? His brother owned a bar, after all. But those two hated each other… He shook his head. Too serious of thought for such an good evening.

_wWwWw_

"You want me to  _what?_ "

"Well, I assumed since you were in the broom-making industry that you could fly. You  _can_  fly, correct?"

Harry stared at Minerva like she had grown two heads. "And why did you come to  _me_  to do it? Why can't  _you?_  They're your bloody Griffindors."

She looked highly irate.

A slow grin spread across Harry's face. "Unless you won't let yourself be caught dead on a broom. Is that the case, Minerva?"

She scowled. "I don't see why you can't do it. It's not like you have anything else during this period, and I  _do_  have Head of House duties that take up my time, as well as Deputy Headmi-"

"I'll do it on one condition."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what is that?"

"That you take over all my Hogsmeade duties, officially. Albus keeps telling me you are refusing to admit that you agreed to do it." He grinned. She glared. "Unless you'd rather be caught dead on a broom, hundreds of feet of the ground, with little ickle Griffins falling out of the sk-"

"Fine! I agree!"

She was so easy. Harry smiled brightly. "Thanks! So, when's this class exactly?"

"Ten minutes."

His eyebrows rose. "Wow, you're cutting it close there Minerva." He grinned and started jogging towards the pitch to escape her glare. She was so easy to rile up!

The class of Griffindors and oh god no. Slytherins. No wonder Minerva hadn't wanted to teach this class. Eugh. Anyway, the class of lions and snakes were curiously hovering around outside when he found them. He grinned as he walked towards them, as a couple students had seen him and the looks of abject horror on their faces were very amusing to witness.

"Alright you lazy white-arsed pencil-pushing wimps-for-wizards, and witches, front and center!" he barked out, reminiscing about the good ol' days as the kiddies responded to his drill sergeant voice like frightened little ducklings. "Good. Now, I'll have you know that flying is a very particular  _art form_ , and if I see you dissing the art then I will personally kick your – yes?"

The girl who had raised her hand blinked nervously. "What does diss mean, sir?"

He stared. Oh yeah, pop culture. To diss wasn't even in the vernacular yet, let alone the dictionary, wasn't it? "Diss. Short for  _DISRESPECT!_ " The entire class jumped. He grinned evilly. "Thank you, Miss Gryffindor First Year for showing us all the courage that got you that red and gold scarf. Now, moving on. Dissing the art means you diss me, which means you diss my  _business_. And as a stick-carver I won't allow it. So if you want to pass this class, I suggest you show the brooms their proper  _RESPECT!_ " He was pretty sure this wasn't a graded class, but who were they to know?

Another hand was up. "Yes?"

This time, a Slytherin boy had mustered up the courage. "I-is it true, Professor Underwood?" Harry gave the kid a blank stare. "T-that you're the owner of U-under the Wood?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because he was pretty sure that if he did the boy would cry. Or pee his pants. He looked pretty excited that their teacher was the founder of the flourishing broom business. "Yes, it's true. Any other inane questions before we  _move on?_ "

No one looked willing to open their mouths.

"Good! The brooms are in the shed. Go get one." He cast a powerful unlocking charm at the shed a couple yards away, as it was unlikely a simple alohamora would work with so many students on the rampage.

It took a while, but after much clamouring every student had a broom in their hands. He was pretty sure they were all crap, too. He stared at the brooms that had been pulled from the dark recesses of the broom shack with growing horror.

"Brooms on the ground!" he barked. They all scrambled to obey. "Nobody flies until I've checked that all these withered old sticks aren't going to die mid-air and kill you." He grumbled under his breath. He should donate some decent brooms to this school. The quality, even for this  _age_ , was ridiculous! He made a mental note to owl Darcy later that evening.

He spent the next ten minutes of class running his hands through the enchantments on the crap brooms and burning a few to cinders. Some of them weren't good enough to be anything more than fertilizer. He mentally scoffed. By the time he was done, some of the kids were going to have to share. The seeker in him cried for these poor buggers.

He gave them all the instructions he remembered being given in first year, with modifications of his own. And he only let three students up at a time, in case he needed to pull an amazing seeker move and save one of the kiddie's arses from being permanently planted into the ground. In death. He wasn't sure if the firsties were scheduled to have another lesson at some point, but he made another mental note to ask Minerva about it. Since first years weren't allowed brooms of their own, he figured the least the school could do was let them actually practice flying with a decent instructor to keep them from killing themselves.

Once he had his method going – five minutes air time, then rotation – he found he actually didn't mind teaching the litter blighters how to fly. And as there weren't any injuries or inter-house conflicts between the students (in the air, at least), Harry was rather content when he ended the lesson with a vague promise that they would probably have another scheduled soon and no, he didn't know if it would be him again. For some reason, they actually seemed  _sad_  when he locked the brooms away. He wasn't sure if it was because they would miss the brooms or his own irresistible charms.

_wWwWw_

Classes passed uneventfully for the next month, and soon Halloween rolled around with Harry none the wiser. The first thing that clued him in to the date was the  _pumpkins_. They were bloody  _everywhere!_

"So, what are you dressing up as?" Minerva asked him at lunch that afternoon. Dumbledore was mysteriously absent, so Harry didn't have to strain around the Headmaster to see the other half of his conversation. He stared at her uncomprehendingly. She frowned. "You  _do_  know that it's compulsory for all teachers to attend the ball, right?" She smirked at the alarmed look on his face. "How did you miss the notices, Harry? Haven't you been to the teachers' lounge lately?"

Harry groaned and buried his face in his scrambled eggs. He was pretty sure Minerva looked disgusted, because it wasn't long before she was pulling his face out of his plate. Yep. Dis _dain_.

"How could you not notice?" She seemed genuinely confused after she wiped the disgust off her face.

Harry grumbled and wandlessly removed his egg mask. "Maybe I'll go as an egg monster." Minerva looked decidedly unamused. "I don't know! Okay? Maybe my subconscious mind wanted to spare me from the horrors of reality."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "You are so overly dramatic."

Harry grinned. "What are  _you_  dressing up as? A cat?"

She glared at him.

His grin broadened. "Don't tell me you're actually dressing up as a cat. That's highly unoriginal." Her glare intensified. "Hey, even egg monster's more original than  _that_. You should go as Frankenstein's wife or something. You have enough hair, we could really easily stack it and put white streaks on the si-" he pushed his chair back and slid under the table at her retaliating gesture. "Why  _Minerva!_ " he called out from under the table. "Did you  _actually_  just throw  _food_  at me?"

"I will gut you like a fish, Underwood!"

Harry grinned and wandlessly cast a sonorous charm.  _"FOOD FIGHT!"_

The chaos that ensued would go down in Hogwarts a History as the most epic food fight to ever stain the Main Hall. Dumbledore would later be heartbroken that he had missed it.

_wWwWw_

Harry scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He was pretty sure at this point, after getting a premature egg costume dumped on him during lunch time, that he did  _not_  want to be an egg monster for Halloween. Which left him in his current predicament. He had ten minutes to throw a costume together, and he'd been staring at himself in the mirror in indecision for the past half an hour. Going as a vampire was so déclassé, since he  _was_  half-vampire, and most of the superheroes he knew of hadn't been invented yet. Or, he was pretty  _sure_  they hadn't been invented yet. Which left him with little idea of what he wanted to be for Halloween.

He was interrupted from his brooding by a knock at the portrait. Sighing, he left the bathroom to see who was bothering him.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "A-albus!" Then the sight and  _smell_  of what the old man had dressed up as hit him full-force, and he had to stumble back a few steps and cover his mouth as his fangs nearly split his lip they came out so fast.

The delight that had been shining in Dumbledore's eyes quickly diminished as he saw Harry's reaction to his costume. He entered the rooms, the portrait swinging closed behind him, with a concerned expression on his face. "Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry kept his eyes closed, knowing they would be glowing an unearthly green through his glamour. Harrison Underwood had been a normal-looking guy with brown hair and hazel eyes, but Harry knew the magic of his vampire gaze would overpower the hazel and turn his eyes to their familiar Avada Kedavra green.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched, stepping back into the wall.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his voice sounding bewildered and concerned.

Harry mentally swore. Well, it was either tell the man to get rid of his bloodied robes or jump him to get his fix. God he wished he had a blood pop right about now. "Can you banish the blood, please?" he asked, angry at himself for the waver in his voice.

There was a pause, and for a moment Harry thought Dumbledore would ignore his plea, but then the smell of blood was nearly gone and he could breath again. He sighed in relief, but it was short-lived. Dumbledore pulled his hand away from his mouth and gasped at the fangs Harry had been hiding beneath.

"Wha-"

Harry tried to pull himself from Dumbledore's grip without hurting the man, but the wizard's grip belied a strength he hadn't thought the human capable of. He felt a whine building in the back of his throat because Christ he hadn't wanted Dumbledore to find out he was a vampire this way and what if the man wasn't as accepting as he had been of creatures even half-creatures in his own time because god he didn't want to go to the Ministry he knew what they used to do to vampires during this-

"Harry! Look at me!"

Harry absently noted that he was hyper-ventilating as he followed the order of the man he most respected in this world of prejudice and pureblood supremacy. Blue eyes were staring at him from less than a foot away, and he could see his own blazing green fire reflected on his corneas. He immediately flinched and looked away, closing his mouth tightly to hide his fangs, as if the man hadn't already gotten a good look at them.

"Harry, calm down. I need you to breath, okay?"

He took deep breaths, and his nose scrunched at the lingering smell of blood on the air. He  _needed_  a blood pop, or he was going to sink his fangs into Dumbledore's neck at any second. He slipped into the shadow behind him and shadow-walked to the far side of the room, where he kept his supply of blood pops. He nearly tore off the lid to get to them, and ripped the wrappers off of three before shoving them all in his mouth. He closed his eyes and let himself relax for a moment as the taste rolled over his tongue and temporarily sated his  _urge_  for the sticky, sweet substance. God he hated being like this.

When a tentative hand touched his shoulder, he swung around ready to punch the potential enemy in the face and froze an inch away from blue eyes. Shit. He was so getting fired. The misery must have shown on his face, because Dumbledore smiled softly at him.

"If you think I'm going to fire you, you're wrong, my friend."

Some of the tension leaked out of him, and he felt slightly less cornered with three white sticks poking ridiculously out of his mouth. Now he just felt ridiculous with three white sticks poking out of his mouth.

"Why not?" It came out slightly garbled around the three candies in his mouth, but he had to ask.

Dumbledore was still smiling. "Who would I play chess with?"

It was so ridiculous Harry started laughing bitterly. He ran a hand through his hair and checked that his glamour was still in place. It was. At least one thing hadn't gone totally wrong tonight.

"I would never fire as dedicated a defence teacher as you, Harry. I admit I am… surprised, at this newest development, but you seem remarkably in control for a vampire."

"Hamph."

Amber eyebrows rose. "Pardon?"

Harry scratched the back of his head and pulled out the blood pops. "Half," he repeated. "I'm too freakish to actually be a full vampire."

Dumbledore looked confused. "I didn't know people  _could_  be half vampire."

Harry snorted bitterly. "Yeah, well, I seem to be the exception to every rule. I survived a failed turning during a hunt a couple decades back, and this is what I turned into. I'm a normal human with a little abnormal strength and speed, and I require a fix every two weeks." He shoved the pops back into his mouth.

Dumbledore smiled. "I trust you are no threat to my students?"

Harry gave him a bizarre look. "No!" he said indignantly through the candies in his mouth. He sounded ridiculous to his own ears.

"Then I see no reason for tonight to be remembered. Now, what are you dressing as for Halloween?"

And so continued one of the most bizarre Halloweens Harry had ever experienced, and that was saying something.

"An  _elf?_  No way. That's even worse than the cat costume I harassed Minerva about during lunch time!"

Dumbledore pouted. "It isn't if you change your hair and let your natural eyes free of the glamour. And wear a costume. I used to be the transfiguration teacher, I'll have you know." Amusement shone in the blue eyes.

Harry stared. "You're serious, aren't you." He sighed. Well, it wasn't like he'd come up with anything brilliant in the half an hour he'd spent staring at his reflection. "What colour hair?"

Dumbledore grinned at Harry's acquiescence. "White, of course. And make it long. At least to your waist."

Harry grumbled as he tapped his scalp with his wand to grow his hair and changed his glamour to reflect a longer bone structure. He kept it clear around his eyes, and saw that they were still glowing eerily in the mirror, though likely not nearly as bright as when he'd been in blood lust.

"How's that?"

Dumbledore positively  _beamed_. "You have very interesting eyes, Harry! Now, let me just…" He did some complex waving of his wand and Harry watched as his regular robes melted into something he'd probably seen in a movie.

" _Leggings?_  Honestly, why can't I be an elf with trousers?"

Dumbledore looked positively  _amused_. "Because then you wouldn't be an elf. You'd be an elf with trousers."

Harry shot him a bizarre look before just giving up. He checked himself out in the mirror and had to admit his costume was much better than a cat get-up. Oops, but he'd forgotten the ears. A quick addition to his glamour and he was set to go.

"So," Harry asked as they left his rooms to head to the Great Hall, "Why did you actually put real chicken's blood on your count Dracula outfit?"

Dumbledore looked abashed. "I'm afraid I may have gotten a little… overzealous, in my costume."

Harry snorted. "Darn right. Red dye could have worked just as well. It's not like any of the students would be able to tell it was real."

The Headmaster shrugged. "I wanted to win the costume-of-the-year contest."

Harry laughed. Wow, that thing was still going? Or, er, had already started? Or whatever. Time travel just plain confused him sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in an incredibly useful source, you can find a Harry Potter timeline at the following url. Just take out the spaces.
> 
> http:// www. hplex. info/ timelines/ timeline . php
> 
> Also note that I will follow the timeline of Harry Potter as it suits me and may bend and twist some things beyond recognition as my story require. So, for example, while I am aware that Dumbledore becomes headmaster around 13 years after Tom graduates, and Tom resurfaces around 15 years after graduation to reapply for DADA, I'm shaving it to 'around 10 years', because who /really/ honestly and truly cares how close to canon I get this? Cuz it's so not canon. :)


	9. Chapter 9

"Harry!!"

It took all of Harry's skills as an actor and assassin to not jump in abject ter- er, surprise. These skills, however, didn't save him from becoming Darcy's favourite squeezable teddy bear. Since when was Darcy so affectionate in public?

"Dar… cy… ribs…"

She let go with an abashed look, ignoring the stares of the students in the entrance hall. He'd been heading to lunch when she'd shown up out of the blue and atta- er, hugged him. Irene was standing to one side, a box floating along beside her, a peaceful smile on her face.

Darcy grinned at him, adjusting his robes after they'd been scrunched. "Harry! You haven't visited us in nearly a month. And you don't send nearly enough letters. How have you been?"

Did women just like shouting his name for no apparent reason, or what? He felt like taunting her about 'respectable adult behaviour', but didn't want her to close off on him. So he wisely kept his mouth shut. For once. "I've been good. The children are giving me grey hairs, though. We're covering boggarts right now in a few of the classes, and some of the things I've seen have terrified." He widened his eyes in horror. "I will never look at bunnies the same way again."

Darcy laughed. "I'm sure." She turned and motioned Irene forward with a smile. "We brought 30 sticks, like you asked. Irene's already put the twigs on them and everything. She managed to find a group of trees that were relatively similar, so the sticks should respond nearly the same once you have them enchanted." She gave him a stern look. "Mind telling me why we're donating so many brooms to Hogwarts?"

Harry grinned. "I'm paying you, so why are you complaining?"

She gave him a look. "I'm not complaining, I'm just curious. And why didn't you want me enchanting them myself?"

Harry opened the large box and glanced in side. He nodded his head and smiled at Irene, who was blushing prettily and smiling. He couldn't help but pat and rub her head in affection. She hadn't shucked him off yet, so he figured it was still allowed no matter how old she was. She smiled brightly, looking even cuter with her mussed up hair. Darcy came over and combed it to lay flat with her fingers.

"I didn't want you tiring yourself out for something that wasn't bringing in any money. You're busy enough with the regular orders. Speaking of orders, are there any customs waiting for me?"

Darcy pulled a muggle spiral-wound notepad from her pocket. Both she and Harry were known for using muggle supplies if they were more convenient than quills and parchment. Sometimes the wizarding world was just too bloody backwards. "You have two brooms on convenience order, and one on rush due for three days from now. I really need a better way of getting a hold of you, you know. I can't try to firecall the Headmaster every time a Quidditch professional breaks his backup broom thirty minutes into a game."

Harry nodded. "I'll charm a bracelet or something that'll let me know when you need me. Can I get it to you along with the rush order broom?" She nodded. "Great. Has Irene already picked out the wood following the specifications of the customers?" Darcy turned to Irene expectantly, and so did Harry.

The petite woman smiled. "Yes, Harry. The rush order broom is in the box with a list attached to it, and the other two custom orders I'm finishing carving today, so you can finish those at your leisure." She spoke softly, but far more confidently than she had years ago. Harry smiled.

"Perfect! I'll get the rush order back to you in the next couple days, and I'll pick up the other two over the weekend."

Darcy nodded, then grinned. "When are you going to charm the donations? Are you going to do it all at once? Because I want to watch."

Harry laughed. "I was thinking of doing it now, actually. The first years have another flying lesson later this afternoon, and I'm doing the teaching, so I'd rather they not break their necks."

Darcy opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, eyes flashing to something beyond Harry's shoulder. He turned around, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Albus! I hadn't noticed you there." He turned to his girls. "Darcy, Irene, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Albus, this is Darcy, whom I'm sure you've already met through panicked firecalls, and this is Irene. They run my store now that I've, ah, 'retired'."

Blue eyes twinkling brightly, almost as brightly as his blue robes with yellow stars and moons, Dumbledore walked forward and shook the hand of Darcy while kissing the hand of Irene. The silver-eyed girl turned a light pink as she smiled and nodded shyly in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my ladies. Harry has spoken highly of you during our intermittent chess matches."

Darcy raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry incredulously. "You know how to play chess?"

Harry deadpanned, "Yes, Darcy, I have a greater intelligence than a cucumber."

She smirked. "Hey, you said it, not me."

He rolled his eyes and looked inside his box again for something to do, wanting to hide his – he was loathe to admit it – embarrassment.

"Did I hear correctly, Harry? Are you donating broomsticks to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore looked positively  _tickled_.

Harry sighed. "Yes. I wanted it to be a  _surprise_." He shot a glare in Darcy's direction. She just shrugged.

"Would you mind terribly if I watched the enchanting process as well?"

Harry blinked and looked up from his box. "Of course not! I would hardly keep you from a possibly educating experience, Albus." He smiled. "I know how you like your puzzles."

Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment before he covered it with a jovial smile. "Wonderful! May I ask when?"

Darcy interrupted Harry before he could open his mouth. "It had better be now, because we can't keep the shop closed longer than lunch."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course  _I_  don't even get to eat before you begin demanding things of me. Fine." He waved a hand at the open doors of the Great Hall and an apple came zooming into his hand. He munched on it as he made the box float and follow him outside.

It was cloudy but not raining he discovered as he walked out onto the open field. He could see the lake in the distance, as well as a few students sitting about studying and talking, but this didn't make him change venues as he opened the box and started putting the brooms on the ground, ignoring the custom broom with the paper around it that he would do in a few days after his magic had recovered whatever enchanting 30 brooms cost him. If he lost too much magic, he could always use the potion Snape had created for him. He'd had to replace his supply a few weeks ago when they passed their expiration date. Generally the potion lasted for a year, so he'd had to throw away the seven unused vials. He always had ten on him in case it came to a war situation. Preparing the potion took nearly two weeks, after all, so he never let his supply run below five.

Confident that Darcy would make sure spectators didn't get too close – she knew his pet peeves of spell casting, after all – he placed the last broom on the grass and admired his almost-circle. If he didn't know where the end of the line was, after all, he might accidently recast spells. Normally he would never enchant so many brooms at once, but school brooms only needed a certain level of capabilities. Their safety features were more important than whether they could reach 100 km/hr in five seconds.

Pulling out his wand, he glanced at his audience. Spying Minerva, along with a couple of curious students, he grinned.

"Why, meooow, hello Minerva!"

The look of dark fury on her face was totally worth it. "If you don't stop meowing every time I see you, I will transfigure you into a cat, Underwood!"

He grinned. "I thought we already established during Halloween that your transfigurations don't last on me?" Grinning ear to ear, he made a clawing motion with his hand when she nearly hissed at him. "Getting on in cat years, are you?"

"I will transfigure certain limbs into twigs for that comment, Underwood!"

Dumbledore and the girls had suitably sympathetic expressions on their faces as they got the threat. The younger students looked confused.

Harry just grinned and turned back to his work. Confident she wasn't going to send a curse at his back – but he still kept his senses open just in case – he closed his eyes and took out his wand. Moving to the first broom in the series, he started casting the first spells.

By the time he was finished, lunch was almost over and he was down half his core. Since magic recharged faster if there was more in the core, half would only take a week to replenish. If he pushed it to near empty with the custom orders and classes, however, he was going to have to take one of Snape's potions. There was no way he was going to wait three weeks for his magic to recharge, after all.

Letting Darcy put a signature on the handle of each broomstick, he placed the final weathering charms on each before they were complete. Finally.

Sitting on the cool grass, he let himself flop backwards and land on the ground as Darcy and Irene started loading the brooms back into the box, leaving the unfinished custom on top. As they did this, Dumbledore sat on the ground next to him.

"That was quite the display of spellmanship, my friend."

Harry peaked an eye open and glanced at the older wizard. He couldn't get anything from the blank, pleasant smile on his face. "So it was." He took in a breath of air and let it out. He was rather tired. Dumbledore probably thought he was empty on magic after that. Wizards with large cores were very rare, after all, and he had just proved himself to be a very powerful wizard indeed to his old Headmaster. Er, new Headmaster. Whatever.

"May I ask why you decided to do it all in one day?"

Harry kept his eyes closed and focused on the gentle scratch of cut grass against the backs of his hands. "To eliminate inconsistencies. If I do all the spells in the same order, the same length of time between them, each broom will act almost the same. Normally all my brooms are cast according to the properties of their wood, but this batch I had picked for its particular bland personality and malleability. The perfect brooms for children to learn on. For example, one of the spells on it prevents the user from flipping upside down or sliding off the front or back. This decreases the chance of a student falling off, as they would literally have to stand and jump off to get around the spellwork."

"Impressive." When Harry made a noncommittal 'hm' in response, Dumbledore continued, "Why is broom making not your passion, Harry? You seem particularly good at it."

Harry shrugged. "I can create the spells for the brooms, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. I like teaching DADA better. Carving sticks was just to put food on my table until something better came up."

Dumbledore actually snorted softly at that. "You seem to be making a lot of money from something you don't particularly care for."

"Money is useful, but not everything, Albus." He opened his eyes and looked up into blue. "I much rather have a good cup of coffee during a chess game."

Dumbledore's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Oh, so it's the chess you prefer. Not the company."

Harry grinned. "The company's not all that bad," he said nonchalantly.

The older man chuckled softly, but the twinkle in his eyes belied how pleased he was.

"Hey, Harry! Irene and I are going back to the shop. I locked the box for you. Shall I just leave it here?"

Harry didn't feel like sitting up. "Yeah, that's fine! Thanks Darcy!"

He heard what might have been a snort, followed by two girls giggling and laughing quietly before he heard soft feet walking away.

"Are Minerva and the students still here?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, they've gone to classes. I take it you have a free period?"

Harry nodded. "Thank goodness for that. The apple didn't really tie me over." As if to agree with him, his stomach growled. He made no effort to get up, though, and neither did Dumbledore. They sat there in comfortable silence intermittent with small conversation for quite some time before leaving.

_wWwWw_

It was during dinner, with Harry slowly leeching power from Hogwarts the natural way so he wouldn't have to use one of Snape's potions, that the letter came. Pulling out his wand, he cast his usual detection charms wordlessly over the letter before he even removed it from the owl's leg. The bird looked quite annoyed, but he never took any chances. He was rewarded for his efforts when the letter temporarily glowed purple in response to one of the last spells he used, one of the more  _rare_  detection charms. It was aimed towards a particular set of dark arts spells that cursed various body parts to slowly melt over a week-long period. This particular curse had been directed at his wand hand.

Paling dramatically, he rushed through the rest of his usual list, adding a few more of the rare ones just in case the first curse was a cover for something worse. Ignoring Dumbledore on his left, who had placed a hand on his shoulder to either get his attention or for comfort, he finished the last spell and took a breath before beginning the complex removal of the purple curse.

By now he had the attention of the entire staff table, along with most of the student body. He'd been flashing colourful spells for the past five minutes, so it was understandable. By the time he had removed the flesh-melting curse, his grip on his wand was clammy and so was his face. Removal of curses like that was no mean feat. One mistake and it blew up in your face rather spectacularly.

Leaning back in chair, he downed his pumpkin juice in one swallow. It refilled, and he took another drink. Putting the goblet down, he leaned forward and took the letter carefully from the bird's foot, feeding it a generous piece of sausage. After the letter was in his hand, he pushed the plate towards the owl in case it wanted any more food, and put a glass of water in front of it as well. No point in being angry at the bird for delivering a fatal letter to him. The bird drank some water and helped itself to the rest of his sausage before taking off.

"-ry? Harry?"

Harry turned to Dumbledore, letter still clenched in his hand. The blue eyes looked extremely worried. "Do you want to take this up to my office, Harry?"

He opened his mouth a few times, looking back and forth between the letter and his attentive audience. "I… I think that may be best."

The Headmaster nodded and gently urged him to his feet, hand still on his shoulder. The moment they were clear of the Great Hall, voices exploded behind them for a moment before the side door closed and cut off most of the racket.

The trip to the gargoyle was made in silence, Dumbledore's hand on the small of Harry's back the entire way, and the half-vampire found that he didn't really mind the contact. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in a letter with that dark of a curse on it. It would have been extremely difficult to remove had he touched the letter before checking it. It… it might have even caused permanent damage. That was what scared him the most at that moment, aside from the unknown contents of the letter. It wasn't the pain of the curse he worried about, but that he might have lost his right hand for good. He was ambidextrous, for the most part, but losing a hand… he would never be able to return to his old vocation. An assassin with a fucked up right hand was useless, and right now he needed that right hand if he was going to cut off the head of the fucker that sent him this letter. The letter that he still hadn't read.

The gargoyle opened with a murmured 'butterbeer', and the next thing Harry knew they were in Dumbledore's office and the older man was gently pushing a cup of coffee into the hand not viciously grasping the letter. He took a fortifying drink of the liquid before putting it down on one of the small tables. Dumbledore conjured a plush armchair to sit not directly in front of him, but slightly to the side, and Harry appreciated the sentiment. He wasn't sure what he'd do right now if someone 'threatened' him with chair positioning, and he snorted to himself in derision at the thought before taking another drink of coffee.

When he had put the cup back down, he found Dumbledore gently gripping his left hand. He looked up from where he was burning holes in the letter with his eyes. Blue eyes were no longer twinkling at all, and he found himself fascinated by the change. He blinked.

"Albus?"

The hand gently ran over the skin of the back of his hand before the Headmaster pulled slowly away. "I know you probably don't want to know what is in that letter, my friend, but I want you to know that I am here to help you. All you have to do is ask."

Harry blinked in confusion as he sorted out what exactly that was supposed to mean, and his mouth formed into a small 'oh' of comprehension when it clicked. "Thank you, Albus." The man smiled sadly at him as he turned to the envelope crinkled in his hand and flipped it over. It read a simple 'Harry Underwood' on the front in simple black ink, and the parchment was the same that could be bought in any store, except it was of a slightly higher thickness and grade. It was when he flipped it over to the back that tension spread through his entire body, for on the back was a very familiar black wax seal.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, not even realizing it, as he reached up his sleeve and pulled out one of the knives there that Dumbledore was probably not supposed to know about, but the seal had knocked his common sense right out of his brain. Every assassin was trained in History, as well as all the other physical and magical courses, except the history was of course more killing-oriented. The seal he was currently staring at belonged to the major magical crime boss of Russia that had been in power from the end of World War II until halfway through the Cold War. It had been Harry's Agency that had taken the hit ordered by the President, and Harry's Agency had been the main reason why Russia never came out on top.

What the  _fuck_  was the White Tiger doing sending him this letter? Did he  _know_ , somehow? Or was it because of Harry Underwood, and not Agent Phoenix? What. The.  _Fuck._

Sheathing the knife, he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. Unfolding it, he began to read the thick black ink.

_**Dear Mr. Underwood,** _

_**It has come to my attention these past few years that you are making quite a name for yourself as an up and coming broom salesman. While your brooms were remaining in Western Europe, this was not a problem. It became a problem, however, when they started interrupting the business here in Russia. You see, my little brother is running a very good business, making much money selling to the teams and population here in Russia, but your amateur little store has been stealing money from his business. This does not please me.** _

_**I am a man of many friends. And you would do best to become one of those friends. I will tell you how to do this. You will not involve the Ministry of Magic of that little island of yours, and you will not involve any law enforcement of any country concerning this matter. Things like this are easily solved among friends, yes? You will sell your company to the associate of my little brother when he comes to you in two days, no questions asked, no problems made. You will then forward the earnings of your company to the muggle bank number at the bottom of this letter. You will accept the 2000 galleons my associate will give you for your store and merchandise, and you will never make and sell another broom.** _

_**Now, you may ask yourself, why would I do this? What could possibly happen if I do not listen? I will tell you, Mr. Underwood. If you are not already aware of the significance of the seal you just opened, you had best do your research. You should know who it is exactly that has your two little broom makers.** _

_**BIC: 089473024** _

_**IBAN: 30174536210980903024** _

Harry felt ice race down his spine for an instant before pure  _fury_  burned the cold from his limbs and nearly destroyed Dumbledore's office before he contained it. A few shiny trinkets fell over from the force of the explosion, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the year Dumbledore had told him about the prophecy. Taking huge gulps of air, he focused on his glamour to make sure it hadn't fallen. It was still intact. He felt the letter get pulled from his hands, and he let it, pulling his legs up off the floor and pushing himself back in the large chair. Heals digging into the edge of the cushion, he dug the heals of his hands into his eyes and tried not do destroy anything. He wanted to. He so  _badly_  wanted to.

He focused on his breath, drawing on every single meditation lesson he'd ever absorbed over the years to keep himself from combusting. How  _the fuck_  had something as innocent as broom making brought the  _fucking_   _Russian Wizarding Mafia_ down on him?

A hand landed gently on his knee, and it took every ounce of his control not to respond to instinct and remove the head of the interloper. He looked up when the hand gently squeezed, meeting burning blue eyes that were both sympathetic and furious on his behalf.

"Harry? What are you going to do?"

Harry rubbed a hand over his face as he thought. He wanted to go over there and wipe the White Tiger off the face of the earth. He knew it wouldn't be feasible, however. The mafia was too deeply entrenched in society. Killing them all would be nearly impossible, especially without the Agency at his back.

He  _could_  convince them never to fucking bother him again, though. Give them incentive. Paint one of their bases red and then have a very convincing meeting with their leader. Yes. That was feasible. Not smart by any means, but feasible. He was the most powerful and experienced soldier on the planet. This could work.

It had better fucking work. Or Darcy and Irene were  _dead_.

It vaguely occurred to him that he could just roll over and meet their demands, but every instinct in his body, every ounce of training he had ever gone through demanded  _justice_. And if Darcy and Irene died, then he would just devote ten years of his life to wiping out the Russian mafia. To him, it was a simple as that.

Well, not really  _simple,_  but-

"Harry?"

He would use the time turner. Dumbledore would never know. Now, how to- "I'm going to call in a favour."

Dumbledore looked confused. "A favour? From who?"

Harry smiled bitterly. "An old friend."

Blue eyes looked worried. "You aren't going to do anything rash, are you, Harry?"

Harry bit back his annoyance. "I'm going to do what I damn well have to, Albus. Period." He felt his stomach twist at the sight of the hurt expression. He bit his lip. "I… I'm sorry, Albus, but I can't…" He thought of the money he needed to bring rights to all the magical beings being abused every single day. "I can't just give in to their demands."

The hand on his knee tightened. "Why ever not? Why risk the lives of those two women? You don't even like making brooms. Why risk it all?"

Harry shook his head. "You don't understand. To not do anything would risk it all. Would risk everything I've worked so hard building up this company from the ground for. This isn't about  _me_ , or about  _money_ , it's about…" He ran a hand over his face again. Did he want to tell Dumbledore? No, not really, but he couldn't bear to see that look in his eyes anymore. He didn't want to lose this man's respect. "You need money to start a revolution, Albus." Dumbledore looked particularly unhinged at that statement, but Harry pressed on. "Every day vampires die for no god damn reason. Every day centaurs are banished deeper into the forests, or killed when a witch or wizard gets too close and gets themselves hurt by sheer stupidity. Every single fucking day werewolves are ostracized from society because of a disease that only affects them  _once a month!_  A disease that could easily be controlled! But no, wizarding society doesn't accept anything that's  _different_. Fucking dark purebloods torture muggles for sport because they think they're  _superior!_  Mudbloods, Magical  _Creatures_ , WE ARE REAL PEOPLE! And it's about goddamn time that this backwater society got with the program!"

He could feel the furious burning in his eyes that let him know he was close to tears, but he stubbornly kept staring at Dumbledore, whose expression for a few moments gave nothing away. Then, the walls came down and relief shone so strongly in those blue eyes that Harry was taken aback. He blinked in surprise when Dumbledore collapsed onto the ground in front of him and wrapped his arms around Harry's curled up form. The younger wizard went stiff for a few moments in shock before relaxing slightly into the hold.  _What…?_

"I was so worried," Dumbledore whispered softly. "I thought that you… that you were like…"

Harry blinked. "That I was like what?"

"Gellert."

And holy  _fuck_  didn't that explain everything.

"Personally, I always hated the 'greater good' slogan." He tried to crack it as a joke, but Dumbledore didn't laugh, just shuddered slightly against him. Awkwardly, he untangled his arms and put them around broad shoulders. He tried rubbing a hand gently up and down Dumbledore's back, but he didn't have much reach with his legs in the way, and he really wasn't good at this comforting thing. It seemed the wound of Grindelwald's betrayal still hadn't healed over like it had in Harry's time. Dimension. Er, whichever.

"I'm not going to go on some holy genocide to wipe out another species, Albus, if that's what you're worried about." Oh and  _Jesus_ , how had Harry forgotten? Dumbledore was rumoured to be  _gay_ , wasn't he? Didn't that just up the awkwardness level. Well, he supposed, it would be worse if he was straight himself. But still. Dumbledore had been his  _mentor_.

Dumbledore pulled back with a shaky smile. "Sorry," he murmured, pulling himself off the ground and sitting back in his chair. Did he actually look  _embarrassed?_  Harry took another good look. Holy shit, he  _did_.

"Don't worry about it, Albus." And wow didn't that get him a twinkling smile. "But seriously, Albus, I have to… I have to go… and contact my… my friend." He stood up nervously, running a hand through his hair.

"Can't you just firecall him?"

Harry shook his head, running with the lie. "No, with him… it's not quite that simple." He smiled and went for apologetic, and Dumbledore seemed to understand, even though he apparently didn't want Harry to leave. Picking up the letter that had fallen to the floor, Harry folded it and slipped it back into the envelope. "Thanks for your… offer, Albus. But I… my friend will help me with this one. I do appreciate, though…" And Dumbledore seemed to accept the stuttering apologetic gimmick, because he was nodding in acceptance as Harry nearly raced out the door.

He made it all the way to his quarters without running into anyone by generous use of secret passages and his extramagical sense. He was out for blood, and he wasn't going to be slowed down.

The portrait opened after he snapped out the password, and he was yanking out his molar before it even closed behind him. The first thing he did was suck back one of Snape's potions, opening his channels to Hogwarts and pulling the ambient energy into his core as he dressed in his acromantula silk armour. It took him a total of ten minutes to completely kit up, and he'd been doing this for years. Ten minutes equalled a  _lot_  of weaponry secreted away. He didn't cast any spells until he'd topped off his core, though. Since it was only half that needed to be replenished, he only had to sit painfully still for another ten minutes before he was done. Shrinking the molar, he popped it back into his mouth and opened his window. A glance at his watch marked the time as 7:53. He heard a taptap… tap, taptap at his portrait, and grinned. He jumped out the window and transformed into a black eagle. He disappeared into the night.

_wWwWw_

"I don… Don't know where Tiger! Simple servant! Don't know! Don't know! Please, no kill, no ki-" The voice cut off with a gurgle and a crack, before hitting the ground with a thump. A samurai sword glinting red in the light, a katana, was wiped of blood before being sheathed. With a click, all sight of the killer disappeared into shadow.

Harry resisted the urge to growl under his breath. He'd been through three lower servants of White Tiger in the past hour, and he still hadn't found what he was looking for. Apparently mafia bosses didn't let the indentured slaves know where he was holed up. He'd ended up killing all three of them, because when he searched their minds with legilimency, they were either rapists or killers themselves. The lowest of scum in the Dark alleys of the wizarding world. And besides, he'd been trained not to leave witnesses. Of course, he'd never followed that rule to the letter, because he refused to kill an innocent, but he'd killed his fair share of people-who-were-there-at-the-wrong-time before.

Swearing in five different languages, including Russian, inside his head, he moved on, shadow to shadow. He knew enough Russian to be considered fluent, but he hadn't had to use the skill in 15 years, so he was a bit rusty. He ended up speaking multiple languages on his search, just to fuck with whoever it got back to that someone was looking for White Tiger. He wasn't stupid. He knew there were people following him. He just hadn't lulled them into enough sense of security yet to get close enough to remove their heads.

" _Cherchez-vous le tigre blanc?"_

:Are you looking for the white tiger?:

Harry turned around, annoyed. A vampire. They'd sent a vampire to deal with the 'intruder' this time. The French accent wasn't that great, but it was easily understandable. Especially since Harry's own accent wasn't stellar either. Ha.

" _Qu'est-ce que vous pensez je cherche? Un vin rouge? Peut-être quelqu'un qui peut me dire où est ton patron, parce que j'ai besoin de savoir où je peindrai ton sang."_

:What do you think I'm looking for? A red wine? Maybe someone who could tell me where your boss is, because I need to know where I will paint your blood.:

The vampire laughed, and it grated on Harry's ears. The vampire had him up against the wall before he could blink, fangs on his neck.

" _Tu es un vaurien, non? Je dois goûter ta provocation dans ton sang. Je pense qu'il sera… vraiment délicieux."_

:You are a rascal, no? I must taste your defiance in your blood. I think that it will be… truly delicious.:

Harry laughed, and the vampire went stiff, digging his sharp fingers into Harry's shoulders. Sure, he could feel the pressure, but the claws wouldn't cut as the vampire was expecting them to. With a wandless burst of magic, the vampire was thrown against the other wall of the alley with a thud, a curse already beginning to boil the blood in its veins. He hissed pathetically, rolling on the ground in pain as he was burned from the inside out. Holding back the curse enough so Harry would be able to get the information he wanted, Harry gripped the vampire by the neck and lifted him up, slamming him back against the alley wall.

" _Tu me diras où es le tigre blanc, ou bien où set trouve ton patron. Je vais_ connaître _ta réponse, ou ta mort sera infiniment plus douloureuse. Choisis!"_

:You will tell me where the White Tiger is, or your boss. I  _will_  know your answer, or your death will be infinitely more painful. Choose!:

Harry tightened his hold on the vampire's neck, and soon he was gasping for breath.

" _Tu me tueras seulement parce que je suis un vampire. Pourquoi est-ce que je te croirais,_ humain _?"_

:You will kill me only because I am a vampire. Why would I believe you,  _human_?:

Harry flashed his fangs, and the vampire went very still, eyes wide.

" _Je te tuerai parce que tu refuses de me dire où est le tigre blanc. Cette bataille n'est pas politique. C'est simple. J'ai besoin d'une réponse, et tu ne la donneras pas. Donc, je te tuerai."_

:I'll kill you because you refuse to tell me where the White Tiger is. This battle isn't political. It's simple. I need an answer, and you won't give it. So, I'll kill you.:

Harry slipped his wand from its holster and lifted it to the vampire's head. Glowing blue eyes widened in pain and horror.

" _Attends! Attends! Je ne veux pas mourir pour un humain! Je te le dirai! S'il te plaît! S'il te plaît!"_

:Wait! Wait! I don't want to die for a human! I will tell you! Please! Please!:

The vampire's voice cracked miserably at the end, eyes wide and pain pumping through his veins. Harry kept his wand steady at the vampire's temple, and lessened the burn in its veins a bit, but by no means let go or lowered his guard. Vampires could be tricky.

" _Dis-moi."_

:Tell me.:

" _C'est_ :La rose noire: _, un restaurant! C'est en dessous! Il y a beaucoup de tunnels. Le tigre blanc est là! S'il te plaît, ne me tue pas."_

:It's  _:The Black Rose:_ , a restaurant! It's under the restaurant! There are lots of tunnels. The White Tiger is there! Please, don't kill me.:

" _Pourquoi? Convaincs-moi."_

:Why? Convince me.:

" _Parce que… Parce que… Je peux te donner une réputation."_

:Because… because… I can give you a reputation.:

Harry made a thoughtful noise. He'd had a reputation, back home. Agent Phoenix. The assassin you  _didn't_ want to fuck with. Now he was just a nobody, and it was very hard to  _find_  somebody, he was discovering, when he had  _no connections._

" _D'accord. Je m'appelle le phénix noir._ Don't fuck with me.  _Compris?"_

:Okay. I call myself Black Phoenix. Don't fuck with me. Understand?:

" _D'accord! D'accord, je comprends. Vraiment. Le phénix noir."_

:Okay! Okay, I understand. Truly. Black Phoenix.:

" _Bien! Au revoir."_

:Great! Goodbye.:

And with that said, Harry set a timer on the release of the blood boiling curse and disapparated without a sound. He wasn't worried about the vampire following him. He had cast every espionage spell in his arsenal, including ones that hid scent and magical signature. Vampires didn't have magic. If the virus ever infected a witch or wizard, they were guaranteed to wake up magicless. Well, this was true for everyone except Harry-Bloody-Potter, of course. Which was why he was the only magical half-vampire in existence. Dumbledore still hadn't popped  _that_  particular question.

_wWwWw_

Harry was sitting in the big boss's chair, picking the blood out from under his nails with his sword when the door burst open with a bang. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at the sight of a very pale, very fat man with blond hair and multiple tattoos. Really. He'd killed more than 30 men to meet  _this_  piece of trash?

The two bodyguards that had been leading the White Tiger from the Fucking Room – yes, there was a room where the old pig had three women lavishing him with kisses and cunt – were already raising their wands at him when he 'tutted' disappointedly. Their heads were rolling on the floor before they got their curses off. They hadn't felt the clean cut, but the moment they'd walked through the door the flesh and bone had already been severed by a silent and invisible curse.

Some bodyguards.

The White Tiger, or rather, White Pig, slipped in the pool of blood on the floor when he went for his wand. Over all, it was a rather disappointing show.

"I spent three hours combing the streets for your scum, one hour finding this fucking restaurant, and fifteen minutes killing everyone in this building for  _what?_  A fat pig who couldn't pull his wand out of his ass if his hookers located it for him? Jesus fucking  _Christ!_ "

The sound of his voice cracking thunderously through the room had the man on the floor pissing his pants. Harry's respect dropped to nil.

"You're the fucking White Tiger, crime boss of Wizarding Russia, and I wipe out your little kiss-ass club in  _fifteen fucking MINUTES?!"_

At this point, he was standing and making his way around the desk. He'd been sitting there preparing for a witty and showy face off with a man who ate babies for breakfast, not this… this… FUCK! All that goddamn trouble. The letter that eluded to dangers unknown, and this was what he got. A paper-pushing-

The pig's head blew apart in a show of red paint. Harry didn't blink and cast a wandless shield. The blood hit it and dripped to the ground. It was a morbid sight, but one he was familiar with.

A blond-haired man with broad shoulders and a suit that looked like it cost a fortune stepped into the room and around the corpse. His blue eyes were menacing behind dark lashes, and he looked particularly pissed.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And who the fuck are you?"

" _I_  am White Tiger," he said in a heavy Russian accent. "And I do not appreciate you killing all my men. They are hard to find."

Harry sat his ass down on the desk and raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Who's the pig, then? And I care about your men, why?"

The Russian tilted his head to the side curiously. "He was… decoy. You are very… interesting, for assassin. Whatever they pay you, I will pay more."

Harry forced himself to stop his blink. It was a bad habit to do it every time he was surprised. In the real world, maybe not, but in  _this_  world… well, the kiddie gloves came off, as did the masks of 'normal society'. Harry was out of practice, but not  _that_  out of practice. He just hadn't killed anyone in a while. The 30 bodies outside made him feel better. Some of them had actually had some skill.

"This isn't a matter of money. It's a favour for a friend."

Slowly, golden eyebrows rose in surprise, and soon he was laughing raucously, eyes open and glinting at Harry. "You come and kill 30 men for favour?"

Harry nodded, confused as to what was so funny.

"If you do that for friend,  _I_  want to be friend! Ha ha!" He was still amused, but Harry hadn't lost sight of the wand in a large hand. He could sense this man was dangerous, in more ways than one.  _This_  had been what he was expecting when he busted into this place looking for blood.

A weird chill ran down his spine when the blue eyes examined his form where he sat on the desk. Was a mafia boss  _checking him out?_

"So, it is not money that you want? What is it you want."

Harry adjusted the grip on his katana. He wondered if he'd need to drop it and replace it for his wand. "I want you to leave Harrison Underwood the fuck alone."

"Underwood… Underwood…" Comprehension entered those eyes and the White Tiger actually looked  _surprised_. "A broom maker has  _you_  for friend? No fucking way."

Harry grinned. "Fucking way. I'm here to negotiate terms, or, in the event that fails, kill you."

A golden eyebrow rose. "You think you can kill me?"

Harry wiped all expression from his face, and from one time he'd seen himself in a mirror, he knew his face was a sight to behold with his furiously glowing green eyes and wind-blown black knives. The White Tiger's foot twitched backwards, as if to take a step, but the man was too proud to follow his human instincts. The condensation building on his brow, however, betrayed his nerves. "I'm a powerful and pissed off motherfucker. Where are Darcy and Irene?"

A muscle twitched in the White Tiger's jaw. "They are being held in Britain. Oversees travel difficult for captives. Easier to kill there." Those eyes were running over his form again, eyeing the muscles that were in no way hidden by the acromantula silk clinging to his skin. "I did not think it would be difficult. Did not think… Underwood had friends like  _you._  What is broom maker doing with top grade assassin for friend?"

"Friend would say it's none of your fucking business. Can we negotiate? Or does this have to get ugly?"

The blond looked curious. "What would you do if I say no? If I did not check in in hour with captors, and Darcy and Irene throat slit in fifteen minutes? What you do then?"

Harry let out a sigh. "I would spend the next ten painstaking years killing every person in the Russian mafia." Blue eyes widened slightly, disbelieving. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not waste ten years of my life. I have better shit to do than clean up a mess like this." He vaguely waved his hands at the décor, as if uncaring. From his experience, targets were more terrified of the crazy mofo that acted normal and killed with a genteel smile than the ones who were automatons. If he could maneuver this guy into a corner, Darcy and Irene wouldn't have to die. It was a tricky business, gambling with lives. Unfortunately, someone had to do it at some point. Harry would rather it be him, than someone unprepared or too stupid for it. That way, it was  _his_  already-pulverized conscience that would be keeping him awake at night.

"I think it best we negotiate. Deal?"

Harry nodded. "You need your desk for this? Or can I sit here. My ass is rather comfortable." He smiled.

The White Tiger looked sufficiently freaked out in his I'm-a-mafia-boss-nothing-scares-me way. "I may need desk to make call."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You use phones? Brilliant. I wish Britain weren't so backwards. Fires are so 19th century."

The White Tiger blinked. "Y-yes." He walked closer, and though he put up great effort trying to hide how scared he was, Harry could smell it on him. He decided to get up anyway, not wanting to be any closer to this mofo than he needed to be.

"You got a name besides White Tiger? Or should I just call you T? WT sounds so lame."

The Russian sat behind the desk cautiously, wand still in hand in case Harry decided to decapitate him. He pulled the phone off the hook with his left hand and started dialing. "Would it offend if I did not want you knowing real name?"

Harry grinned, flashing his human teeth. "I would be tickled pink! There is no greater compliment."

The White Tiger nodded and stopped dialing. Harry's slightly elevated hearing picked up the other line. There was a click, and the Russian started speaking in his home language. Harry picked up enough of it that he was convinced the mafia boss was actually doing as he'd asked.

"I want to talk to the captives before they are released, so I know they are still alive, and as well, I'd like to know their exact location in Britain."

The White Tiger listened to him and rattled off some more Russian. He held the phone out to Harry and the half-vampire picked it up with his left hand, sword never leaving ready position and eyes never leaving the mafia boss. "Hello?"

There was silence for a moment before two terrified female voices started jabbering. As much as Harry loved them, he didn't have the patience for it considering the circumstances, so he was quick to shout, "SHUT UP!" into the receiver.

Blessed silence.

"Darcy?"

"H-hello?"

"Confirm this is one Darcy Whittleton."

"H-how d-do I d-do th-th-that?" Oh, she was close to sobbing. This sucked.

"How much did Mr. Underwood pay you for your shop, how did you meet Irene, and how does Mr. Underwood like his coffee?"

There was silence over the line for a moment. "I-I'm not t-telling you f-fuckers anyth-thing about my b-boss!"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and glow with pride all at the same time. "Miss Whittleton, I am currently negotiating your peaceful release. If you do not comply, we are going to have difficulties."

"O-oh." It was soft and confused. "Well, he paid me a-around 1000 galleons, I m-met Irene at the shop after she r-ran away, and Harry likes his c-coffee black-thank-you-very-much."

Harry grinned. "Beautiful. Thank you for your assistance Darcy. Please put Irene on the line."

There was silence for a moment, then an even softer and hiccoughing voice came on the line. "Y-yes?"

"Irene-whose-last-name-is-still-unknown, please confirm that you are Irene."

"U-um… I like trees… My f-father h-hit me… H-harry…" Here she sobbed. "H-harry gave me a j-job, a-and, and…"

"That is good, Irene. Thank you for your cooperation. Did your captors physically abuse or sexually molest you during your stay?"

"Th-they h-hit… to keep u-us qu-quiet, b-but not the… o-other."

"Are there any broken bones or cut flesh?"

"N-no, j-just some b-b-bruises."

"Very well. Thank you Irene, you may put the captors back on the line." He handed the phone to the White Tiger, masterfully masking the fury burning inside him. They  _touched_  his  _girls._

The White Tiger raised an eyebrow. "Thirty dead men for some bruising? Is this acceptable?"

Harry stared him down. "Along with their peaceful release, and you telling me their location, and you will never threaten Underwood or his associates in any way every again. Is this an acceptable deal?" The White Tiger looked like he wanted to disagree, but eventually nodded his head. "Good. Their location?"

The Russian rattled off an address, and Harry took a moment of searching through his Occlumency-memorized map of Britain to locate it before he was gone with a crack. It was hard to apparate that far without making a noise, and he didn't really care at that point.

He appeared outside the house in the middle of midnight-quiet suburban London and had to give it to the Russian crime boss. Who the hell would look for two magical captives in the middle of muggle  _London_. He made his way to the door and opened it wandlessly. Slinking silently into the kitchen, he found Irene and Darcy waiting there, sitting at the kitchen table, with the two Russian guys talking to the phone, confused. He cleared his throat, and four terrified sets of eyes turned to him leaning in the doorway. He was quite the sight, covered in blood and dark gray armour, katana sheathed on his back and peaking over one shoulder. And they were only seeing the weapons he  _wanted_  them to see.

"You Darcy and Irene?"

They stared at him in shock, and, feeling bad because they  _were_  his girls, he wandlessly cleaned off all the blood before taking a step closer. "I'd like to get you two back home, if you'd take my hands? It's easier to side-along you back to Underwood's shop." It was so easy to pretend that he and Underwood were two different people, but he knew it wasn't true. He was  _very much_ assassin material. He'd lived and breathed it for ten years, after all, and that wasn't something you could just forget and become a normal citizen after.

His girls tentatively stood from their chairs, obviously wondering if trading one captor for another was such a good idea.

Not wanting to be there any longer, Harry snapped, "This century, if you please. I don't have all day." They were quick to latch onto his arms after that, and Harry disapparated with a quiet displacement of air.

He took them home – not the shop as he'd said in front of the captors – warded the house enough that it could survive a nuclear bomb, told them to stay inside until Underwood came for them, and disapparated to Diagon Alley after placing a glamour on himself to hide the assassin suit.

He hired a bird from the wizarding equivalent of the post office, which was open all hours of the day, wrote a fake note in neat, flowing handwriting that would never be mistaken for his own chicken scratch, and sent it off to Hogwarts addressed to 'Underwood'. The bird stared at him in confusion for a moment before he tossed it into the air and disapparated. Owls were too smart for their own good.

Appearing in the Shrieking Shack, he cracked his molar and changed into the set of clothes he'd been wearing before he left. The assassin gear went back into the box in an untidy bunch – he'd fix it up later after he cleaned everything. After casting his Underwood glamour, he pulled out his time turner, checked his watch – 3:50 AM – and started spinning the little hourglass.

The world disappeared in a swirl around him, and he finally let out a sigh of relief. Now that the hard part was over, he just had to pretend to be a distraught man and seek Dumbledore's comfort or something until the note would appear.

He really wanted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Agent 'Phoenix' isn't all that original, but Harry took that name to honour the Order and those who fell during the war. So if you don't like it, Cryyy me a rivaaah
> 
> Sorry if you guys got sick of the French and translation, but indulge me please. :) I wanted to try out my 'one-year-at-uni' skillage. I'd like to thank Lady Idyllic and felly16 for their wonderful French assistance post the updating of this chapter.
> 
> Repost (ffnet) June 25/09: Change made in regards to Harry killing the three people with no reason in response to serene saber's Forum comment. French adjustments made in response to Lady Idyllic and felly16


	10. Chapter 10

Harry wished he was tired enough to barely remember to cast his espionage charms, but the truth was, he was still high off adrenaline from killing more than 30 people in the last 8 or so hours. Trying to knock this fact from the vampire-heavy hemisphere of his brain wasn’t working too well, either. Taking deep breaths and meditating as he walked up to the castle, he thought of bunnies and rainbows and assassinating leprechauns for their gold.

Crap.

Running a hand through his brown-again hair, he slipped through the doors of the Great Hall and made his way upstairs. He’d reset his clock, and it showed 7:52 PM, but he was pretty sure it was off by a minute or so. He didn’t really care. He just wanted to get to his portrait and sleep off the adrenaline, or work out, or  _something_ because he really needed to reboot his brain before he killed some poor student’s half-witted pet.

He made it to his portrait in record time, barely remembering to do the stupid ‘taptap… tap, taptap’ knocking ritual that he used every time he time-traveled. Which, illegally, he had done… well, more times than he could count on one hand. The Agency didn’t like them using time turners unless they absolutely had to, but Harry got away with plenty of things after killing the king pin of all Dark Lords of the 20th century.

After finishing his knock, he whispered the password and climbed inside the portrait. Perhaps the mindless cleaning of his weapons and checking supplies would help him unwind… He’d gotten rid of all the portraits in his room the first day he moved in, so he didn’t have to worry about Headmasterly spies, luckily.

Unfortunately, it was this mindset that he couldn’t get caught that got him with his pants down nearly an hour later when someone came knocking at his portrait. Looking down at the mess of weapons all over his floor, his expression just went totally blank. What does one do when…

He stripped butt-ass naked and dumped water on his head. Wrapping a conjured towel around his waist, he went to the portrait and stuck his head around the corner. Dumbledore, who had been smiling jovially and chatting with the portrait, turned to stare at the sliver of nearly-naked-DADA-professor standing in the portrait opening.

Harry smiled brightly for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to be depressed and worried. He masterfully manipulated the expression into a ‘happy-to-see-you-but-life-sucks-anyway’ face. “Ah, sorry, Albus, but do you think you could wait ten or so minutes? I need to get dressed.”

Dumbledore, apparently, had missed his expression entirely because he was staring at the water traveling down Harry’s chest. Snapping out of it nearly visibly, he turned his twinkle-vision on full power. “No problem, Harry! Shall I wait outside?”

Harry grinned nervously. “That may be best, thanks.” And with that said, he shut the portrait. “Aaawkwaaard,” he murmured under his breath, pulling off his towel before it could get in the way of cleaning up his weapons. He kicked it to the wall. He’d rather not trip on a towel and land on his sword, thank you.

As most of his weapons had been cleaned and oiled, he finished up the last few and methodically stored them back in his trunk. When everything had been returned to rights, seven minutes later, he closed the lid and popped the molar back into his mouth.

Three minutes later he was dressed, brushed, and dry. Not necessarily in that order.

Opening the door – wearing casual trousers, a button-up muggle shirt with the top three buttons undone, and no shoes at all – he invited Dumbledore into his rooms for the second time. He’d put some effort into making it look lived-in. It was hard for someone used to having the bear minimum, but he’d managed to find some interesting odds and ends, as well as some random but intriguing books to cover his empty shelves.

It was nothing like the trinket-covered and fascinating office of Albus Dumbledore, but he figured it was a good start. He needed more Dark Artsy stuff if he was to keep up his DADA ‘paranoid delusion illusion’. He grinned at the thought of the fake Mad-Eyed Moody’s office, with mirrors that showed shadows of your enemies and alarms that went off for seemingly no reason at all.

“It’s very nice, Harry. Much like a bachelor’s apartment.”

Harry blinked. Well, he hadn’t thought of that. Technically, he  _was_  a bachelor, so did that mean he didn’t have to find more random junk to throw about? “Er, thanks, Albus.” He wandered over to the chess board he’d bought at a thrift store in muggle London because he’d been fascinated with the roughly-carved metal pieces. It had been missing a few pawns, as well as a rook, but a little magic went a long way. He’d been doing some research in his down time to try to animate them. He couldn’t wait to see what little metal pieces with no arms or legs would do to try to kill each other. It was a terribly amusing thought.

“Have you heard back from your friend?”

Harry snapped out of his musing and realized he was being a terrible host. Or something. Quickly reorganizing his furniture, he set up two comfortable chairs to sit across from each other in front of the fire and put a table in the middle with the chess board sitting quietly off to the side. Next he went straight for the liquor cabinet. All without answering Dumbledore, which was exactly the plan. Show him you’re nervous and closed off. That’s what men do. Or so Hermione told him.

“Harry?”

A hand landed on Harry’s own, stopping it from pouring the liquor. He froze and blinked. Was his hand actually  _shaking?_  Maybe this wasn’t entirely acting. Since when did he get post-mission jitters, anyway?

Oh wait, since he hadn’t been  _on_  a freaking mission in more than  _ten flipping years_.

He was definitely getting out of shape. It shouldn’t be this bloody difficult to wipe the memory of litres of blood and severed heads and hearts shooting blood out of arteries that had been cleanly sev-

He found himself with a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other moved to his elbow.

“Are you alright, Harry? Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you the firewhisky.”

That sounded like a ridiculously good idea. He did as instructed, flicking his wrist to move his wand from the sheath on his forearm to his hand. He lit the fire with a whoosh of flame, not trusting his current concentration with wandless magic. He might light the whole room on fire. He sheathed his wand just in time for a glass of booze to be slipped into his numb fingers. Letting out a breath, he knocked back the whole glass, holding it out to be refilled. Dumbledore put another two fingers in, and this time he lifted his cold feet off the ground and curled up on the comfy armchair, sipping it.

Hogwarts always had the best furniture.

“Harry?” He looked up into concerned blue eyes. “Did you contact your friend, Harry?”

His friend? Oh right, that excuse. He was the friendly assassin who went and chopped off the heads of thirty men, or was it would be going to? Time travel always confused him. So did dimension travel, now that he thought about it… oh wait, Dumbledore had been asking him a question. What was it again? “Friend? Yes, I did. I contacted him. He… he said he’d take care of it.” He raised a hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes. God he was so tired. The adrenaline was finally starting to fade, as was the smell of blood that had been clogging his nose for the past few hours. He couldn’t smell it anymore, not after the twenty-minute shower he’d had the moment he walked through the portrait, but he knew it was there. Could see the slight tinge of brown in the cracks of his nails that only came with a  _lot_  of blood.

“Are you going to be alright, my friend?”

Going to be alright? Sure. He was just fine. He knew Darcy and Irene were going to be safe in… about seven hours. Until then, he needed an alibi and someone to be the shoulder he cried on.

Or something to that effect.

“I… I don’t know, Albus.” He looked up through his brown lashes, hoping the amber fire would bring out the brighter hues in the normally bland hazel eyes of his glamour. Seduction lesson one: use the eyes. Of course, in this case he was just trying to get Dumbledore to stay with him until the letter arrived, not  _actually_ seducing. He needed to inspire the maximum amount of pity in this situation, and if he was lucky, Dumbledore would do most of the work. “Could you just… could you stay? Please?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Of course I can, Harry.”

The half-vampire nodded and threw back the rest of his glass, holding it out for another refill.

“This friend of yours, Harry, how do you know that he won’t…”

Won’t what, get his girls killed? Perhaps Dumbledore was trying to be sensitive and not say it outright. Killed. Dead.

“I trust him, Albus. He… he won’t let me down.” He paused suitably. “He can’t let me down,” he said softer, sipping at his firewhisky and staring into the fire. It burned his throat pleasantly on the way down.

“How will you know if he… when he succeeds?”

Harry blinked and looked up from the fire into the worried blue eyes. “Something stupid. Like, a pig flooed through the fire. Or a paper bird through the window.” He shrugged. “He’s weird that way.” And he  _was_  weird that way. He’d let his fellow operatives know when to move, when to hide, by the  _oddest_  things. Like, a muggle rubber duck floating in the city square’s fountain. Or a random storm of snow in the middle of August. Just, weird things. And his fellow Agents had always been able to read into them, because they  _knew_  only  _he_  could come up with weird shit like a drunken transvestite accidentally knocking a martini full of acid into the target’s lap.

Ah, the good old days.

“Perhaps a game of chess in the meantime would keep your mind at ease?”

Harry pulled himself from his thoughts and tried for a smile. He was too tired to pull it off successfully, but in this situation it worked in his favour. Dumbledore had the board set magically in moments, and Harry let himself sink into the mindless manoeuvring of the metal pieces.

He woke to a warm hand nudging his shoulder, shaking him awake. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Wow, he had actually fallen asleep. “How long…?”

“You slept for five hours, my friend. There is an owl at the window. I was unsure whether you have wards, so I decided it best to wake you.”

Letting his numb legs fall to the floor, he winced as the circulation returned and pins started racing up his calves. “Merlin. What time is it?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Almost four in the morning, I’m afraid.”

Harry blinked. “You stayed?”

Blue eyes glowed warmly in the firelight. “You asked.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Blearily, he slowly stood from his chair, testing his legs to see if they would hold him. He hadn’t had the chance to cool down properly, so he’d be sore for the next few days, but it was all worth it. Making his way to the window, he managed to trip on a rug and nearly face plant into the wall before he caught himself. “Oops,” he murmured to himself. Wow. He must be really tired, relaxed or both, to be  _tripping_. Lifting the ward on his window, he released the catch that held the glass panes shut. The bird came in out of the cold with a flutter of feathers. It hadn’t snowed yet, but Harry expected it to any day now. It was nearly the end of November after all.

“There appears to be a note, Harry. May I…?”

Harry nodded as he closed the window to shut out the cold. “Go ahead. What’s it say?”

“Mr. Under the Weather. Your merchandise has been returned safe and sound, tucked away in its proper packaging. If a miscommunication occurs again between our two companies, please be sure to contact me again. Hopefully, with the recent exchanging of words, this will not be necessary. Merry Christmas, Rudolf.”

Harry blinked. Had he really written that? He couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped. In character, he reminded himself, in character. “That’s a relief.”

Dumbledore was watching him curiously, blue eyes tired. “A relief? Is this from your friend?”

“Yes. Only  _he_  has such a bizarre sense of humour. My girls should be back at home, safe and sound. Do you mind if I go and check on them?”

The Headmaster smiled. “Be glad it’s Friday. You can sleep in.”

Harry grinned and scratched at his head. “So can you.” Lowering his hand, he walked up to his old mentor, er, new mentor, whatever he was too tired to think and hugged him. “Thanks for sticking around,” he murmured into the warm fabric of the robes, letting himself find comfort in the smell that tickled the edge of his memories. Warm arms wrapped around his back.

“It was no problem at all, my friend.”

Harry let out a sigh and stayed for as long as would be normal before pulling himself away. He smiled tiredly up into blue eyes. “Thanks again. Rematch tomorrow?”

The Headmaster appeared confused for a moment before it clicked. “Ah, yes. Chess. I shall see you tomorrow. Perhaps you might bring your girls for a visit?”

Harry smiled. “Maybe. Only if they want to. I tried to drag them out to a Quidditch match once and it wasn’t well-received.”

Dumbledore laughed.

_wWwWw_

Harry apparated into the living room with a soft  _crack_ , and before he could so much as twitch a body had tackled him to the floor. He let himself fall back with a thud, smelling Irene’s lilac perfume. She was crying into his shirt.

Ignoring the pain in his back, he wrapped his arms around her and looked around for Darcy. She was standing nearby, looking like she wanted to join the dog pile. He smiled at her and waved her over. She didn’t tackle him, but she sat down on the floor next to them, running a hand over Irene’s back and gripping Harry’s proffered hand like it was a lifeline. He could see her valiantly fighting tears.

“Are you two okay? Are you hurt? Did anything happen?”

Darcy bit her lip. “W-we… we’re okay. Just a bit… shaken up. Irene was terrified, and… the man who rescued us. Who was he?”

Harry squeezed her hand gently before relaxing it again. “He’s an old friend. From before I came to Britain. I called in a… a favour.”

She nodded. “He was scary.”

Harry chuckled softly. If only she knew. “It’s sort of his job to be scary.”

“How did he… how did he get us free? I mean, he phoned, and said he was negotiating our release, but… he was  _covered_  in blood.”

Harry wondered how exactly he was supposed to answer that question. “Well, I don’t know exactly. I never ask for details. He just… said he’d take care of it. I got… I got a letter from a very bad man in Russia, telling me to close the store or he’d kill you two, and I didn’t know who else to… to ask for help.” He let out a shuddering breath.

Darcy squeezed his hand, and they sat there in silence for a few minutes before Harry moved them to the couch. Irene fell asleep with his hand in her hair on his lap, Darcy asleep against his shoulder.

_wWwWw_

“Harry!” Dumbledore called out with a bright smile as he staggered into the Great Hall the next morning. “Are the girls alright?” he asked softly, pouring Harry a cup of coffee with his wand.

The assassin smiled and accepted the drink with a flourish, wandlessly cooling it and chugging. Holding it out for a refill, he grinned sheepishly at the amused look on Dumbledore’s face. “They’re doing well. Shaken, but well. I offered them a week off work, but Darcy was adamant to get back to it on Monday. She’s quite the firecracker.” He smiled affectionately, taking a sip of his hot coffee. Speaking of brooms, Harry still had a custom one to finish for Sunday. He should probably check the exact date and location he was supposed to be dropping it off.

The Headmaster nodded with a relieved smile. “I’m pleased to hear they’re okay.”

“Yes, for a second there I thought everything might not work out.”

“Did you ask them if they’d like to come for a visit?” Dumbledore asked curiously.

Harry smiled. “Yes. And no, they won’t be visiting yet. They’re locking themselves in the house all weekend. Perhaps another time. But we’re still on for our chess match if you’re not busy tonight.”

Dumbledore nodded with a happy twinkle and opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted.

“Harry!”

Blinking, Harry turned his head to the left to see Minerva coming towards him with a frazzled look on her face. “Er, yes?”

“The next flying lesson is later today. I had meant to ask you yesterday, but couldn’t seem to find you anywhere.” She frowned. “Are you free to teach the class again?”

“Why, Minerva,” he began lasciviously, throwing his arm over the back of his chair for dramatic, sensual effect. A slight flush coloured her cheeks as he gave her his best bedroom eyes. “You don’t enjoy riding brooms? That’s such a shame.” She looked positively scandalized. “What’s in it for me if I ride the broom instead of you?”

Oh. He could see Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. The look on his face was quite amusing, as Harry had  _indeed_  placed heavy sexual innuendo on that last one.

Minerva sputtered. “Why, I never!”

Harry blinked innocently. “I’m sorry? Did I say something offensive?” He adopted a look of fake epiphany. “Oh my, Minerva! What a dirty mind!”

Her face turned even redder, as by now a few of the other teachers were listening in and snickering into their goblets. “Will you teach the class or not?”

Harry let out a disappointed sigh. “Now, now, Minerva. You still haven’t given me enough incentive.”

“Incentive!” she exclaimed before an evil glint twinkled in her eyes. Harry froze like a cat in the headlights. “Albus,” she said, turning to the Headmaster. Dumbledore raised two questioning eyebrows. “I’ve been thinking for a while that perhaps it is best we delegate the flying lessons to a professor more qualified for the job. If it were given to a teacher with less duties, in comparison to being rotated through the Heads of Houses, the students could benefit from more plentiful and quality lessons. Especially after the new brooms were donated so generously to the school. It wouldn’t do for them to fly improperly and possibly  _damage_  one of them.”

Oh Minerva was  _devious_. Harry pouted as Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “That is a rather good suggestion, Minerva. Did you have someone in mind?”

That damned twinkle! Dumbledore knew exactly who she was getting revenge on! If Harry were a cat, he would be hissing. Unfortunately, that position was already taken by McGonagall. Bitch.

Minerva smiled.  _Devious_. “Why, Harry of course! He’s perfectly qualified for the position. And he’s been with the with the Gryffindors and Slytherins twice already. He’s a natural.”

Dumbledore turned those twinkling eyes on Harry. The assassin wanted to hurt something. Too bad Mrs. Norris wasn’t a permanent addition to the school yet. “Harry?”

He twitched. That entreating expression should be illegal. “Fine,” he bit out, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at them both. Minerva looked far too pleased with herself, and Dumbledore too amused.

“Wonderful!” the Headmaster said cheerfully, clapping his hands together with a jovial smile. “I’d like to thank you again, Harry, for donating the brooms to the school. It was very generous of you.”

The half-vampire waved it off dismissively. “I could hardly let the students fly around on age-old brooms that could die in the air and kill them, could I? I’d never look at a broom the same way again,” he bemoaned dramatically.

Those twinkling eyes crinkled in the corners. “I’m glad that you have relieved yourself of that guilt then, my friend.”

Harry took a dismissive drink of coffee, stubbornly ignoring the smug Minerva as she wandered over to an empty chair and started up a happy conversation with her neighbour. That cow.

“Do you enjoy teaching children how to fly, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, curious as he cut up some of his eggs and continued eating breakfast.

The assassin grunted and drank more coffee, contemplating his response for a moment. “Not really. At any moment one of them could get stupid and take the plunge.”

The Headmaster made a thoughtful sound. “Do you enjoy flying, though?”

“Yeah. I’ve always liked flying.”

“Is that why you went into the broom-making industry? You said during your interview that you had no passion for the job.”

Harry snorted. “Not really. It certainly helped me decide to take the plunge, but I started making brooms for another reason entirely. I believe you already know… part of it. The other reason was that it was easy for me. I’m rather good at enchanting them.” Actually, he took great pride in being able to create a spell on the spot depending on how dire his need was or how creative he was feeling at that moment.

“Well, I must say I am glad that you decided broom making wasn’t for you,” Dumbledore began cheerfully. “Otherwise I would not have found such a qualified Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Harry grinned.

_wWwWw_

It was a week before Christmas when it happened. Harry wasn’t sure how the vampire got into the school, but he’d been doing a routine check of the hallways and defences when he discovered the trail of a shadow walk in the dungeons near the Slytherin dorms.

Cursing under his breath, he broke out into a full out run, hoping the vampire didn’t mean any ill towards one of his students, but knowing that was a false hope. He kept active the spells on his eyes that allowed him to see even better in the dark than his half-vampire traits allowed, as well as to see the trail of that particular vampire brand of magic that allowed them to bend shadows to their will. Vampires didn’t have human magic by any means, but they were still magical beings, and their particular abilities could make them even more deadly than a fully trained wizard.

Upon nearly stumbling past the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, he impatiently hissed ~ _open_ ~ and burst through the opening. As it was nearly two in the morning, no one was awake in the common area, and the fire was a pathetic pile of embers. After tracing the vampire’s trail up one of the stairs, he broke the door with two brass name plates on it down with a wave of his hand.

One of the boys in the room lay unconscious on the floor, a cut bleeding on his head, while the other was about to be drained dry by the vampire latched onto his neck. He still thrashed in the man’s grip, but the vampire was too powerful for him.

Two glowing red eyes looked at him in surprise before he punched the vampire’s face in, dislodging him from the boy’s neck, as a spell could have hit both of them. Drawing his wand with a flick of the wrist, he cast a quick healing charm at the boy to prevent his neck from bleeding out before turning his full attention on the vampire who was breaking his nose back into place with a displeased sneer.

“Flee, human. This doesn’t concern you,” the vampire hissed, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it.

Harry snorted. He wished he had his sword, but if it came down to it he could just conjure one. He needed to store his weapons in a better place than his molar. He’d _thought_  he wouldn’t require it in the haven of Hogwarts’ wards, but apparently he was wrong. It wouldn’t do to be so unprepared again. “This  _does_  concern me, vampire. He is a student, and therefore under my protection. You will leave this school immediately or I will cut off your head.”

The vampire hissed a laugh, and the sound grated on Harry’s ears. “Well, this is a surprise. A human that warns first before slaughtering one of my kind.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t even know who,  _what_ , this student  _is_ , human. How would your sentiments change if you knew he was nothing more than a  _half-vampire_. A monstrosity of nature.”

The student behind him gasped, but Harry just let out a snort. “The only thing monstrous in this room is your attitude,” he taunted, wand at the ready, not showing an ounce of his surprise at there being another half-vampire in existence.He’d thought it was impossible, especially as the half-vampire was being educated in  _magic_. And vampires couldn’t cast magic.

The assassin was fast, he’d give him that. But Harry was experienced with fast. The nonverbal  _sectumsempra_  shredded the vampire that dared to underestimate him into a fountain of blood and twitching limbs. The screech that echoed through the room hurt his sensitive ears, but he ignored it as he went in for the kill and severed the vampire’s head from his shoulders with a cutting curse before he could recover from the wound and attack again.

It hit the ground with a thud and rolled under one of the beds. Ignoring the puddle of blood spreading across the dungeon stone, he turned his attention back to the student on the floor. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step closer to check for more injuries. It didn’t  _seem_  like the boy had lost too much blood. He was still conscious, after all.

Said Slytherin was staring at him in shock. “Y-you aren’t going to kill me too?”

Harry gaped. “Excuse me?! I just saved your ass. Why would I kill you?”

The young boy looked away nervously for a second before returning his eyes to Harry as if waiting for him to strike. “B-because he said that I’m… that I’m…”

Harry snorted. “Ridiculous. What kind of opinion do you have of me that you think I’d kill a student in cold blood? Even a half-vampire one. Not going to happen. Now, let me look at that neck of yours. I don’t know if my charm healed it well enough.” Kneeling on the floor, he ignored the way the student stared at him as if he were crazy. Pulling the boy’s hand from his neck wound, he hummed thoughtfully under his breath and cast another healing charm at the pink flesh, healing the scar tissue completely and leaving no remnant behind. “There. Flesh wounds healed,” he said, getting up and moving over to the unconscious student on the floor. After running a diagnostic charm, he was relieved to see that he only had a light concussion. He healed the wound, picked the boy up, and placed him gently on the bed.

Looking up, he saw the half-vampire was still staring at him in disbelief. “What?” Harry asked impatiently.

The student’s jaw opened and closed for a few moments before words came tumbling out of his mouth. “You don't care? That I’m half-vampire? That another vampire just tried to kill me?”

Harry blinked. “I just saved you. Of course I care that another vampire was trying to kill you. Now can you please get over this struck dumb routine? It’s getting old. What’s your name? I remember seeing you in my classes, but my memory’s not all that great.”

“R-ruben. Ruben Vale.”

Harry nodded. “Well Mr. Vale, I do believe we should see the Headmaster and drop your poor roommate off at the hospital wing.”

Two dark eyes widened in shock. “No! You can’t! If he finds out about me, I’ll be expelled from Hogwarts!”

Harry laughed, and Ruben’s face turned dark with anger. “Albus would never do that. He treats magical beings equally. As long as you weren’t a threat to the students, which I’ll assume you  _aren’t_  as none have died mysteriously from blood loss lately, then he’ll be happy to let you stay. Besides, you have no say in the matter. A vampire assassin came after your neck and injured another student.”

Ruben’s eyes widened. “S-surely he’ll expel me for  _that?_ Getting another student hurt?”

The other half-vampire rolled his eyes. “Hardly. We’ll merely have to make some adjustments to the wards of Hogwarts. It’s not  _your_  fault a vampire managed to sneak inside.” He scowled viciously. “One shouldn’t have been able to in the first place. It’s better that we find out about this weakness now than during a war or something.” He grinned.

Ruben’s wide eyes started to glisten with tears of relief, making Harry feel distinctly awkward. Before the kid could start singing his praises, he floated the unconscious student’s body off the bed and started walking to the busted door. “Come on. We’ll drop by the hospital wing first.” With an absent wave of his hand, he fixed the broken door, as his wand was keeping the student floating off the floor. Ruben watched him do this with wide eyes, and Harry was beginning to think ‘bug-eyed’ was a look for him. Mentally snickering to himself, he dubbed that the boy’s new nickname.

After they had exited the Slytherin dorms, Ruben finally got up the courage to open his mouth. “Um, Mr. Underwood? How did you get into the dorms?” he asked curiously.

Harry blinked. Well, technically only the Heads of Houses knew their House’s password. And Ruben didn’t know he was a half-vampire, as Harry build scent-covering charms into his glamour, so he couldn’t use shadow walking as an excuse. When in doubt, bullshit your way out. “I like to know the passwords to all the dorms in order to keep the students safe. It’s not really my official job as DADA professor, but more… a self-appointed one. I would feel very bad if I were able to protect a student and failed to do so. Like tonight, for example. If I hadn’t been patrolling, you would be dead.”

When Ruben looked down at the floor – ashamed or afraid Harry didn’t know – the assassin mentally smacked himself. Of course, idiot, remind the poor kid he almost got offed tonight.  _That_ ’ll make him feel better. Not really knowing what to say to fix his mistake, he kept his mouth shut, suddenly missing the way Hermione could jump in and sooth a social blunder Harry made with practiced ease.

After dropping the body off at Madame Mercer’s infirmary (and waking her up), Harry took the forlorn student up to the sixth floor and Dumbledore’s office. He didn’t really know what to say to cheer the student up, so he figured he’d just leave that to Dumbledore’s lemon drops. Oh wait, the older man wasn’t addicted to them yet… Harry still hadn’t fixed that. The Headmaster was getting a giant box of them for Christmas, Harry vowed.

Standing in front of the gargoyle at half past two in the morning, Harry frowned. How come every one of the teachers except  _him_  seemed to have the password to Dumbledore’s office? He really needed to ask about that. It was getting annoying. “If you don’t open up right now, gargoyle, I’m going to turn you into a pile of rubble.”

The stone was silent.

“Damn,” Harry cursed to himself. Well, there was no helping it. He’d have to send a patronus message or spend the next ten or more minutes guessing the password. Flicking his wand into his hand, he focused on what the guardian would appear as. He hadn’t cast this spell for years, as the Dementors had been wiped off the face of the planet near the end of the war, so he had no idea if it was still a stag. Shrugging to himself, he just focused on the spell and the message, and cast it.

A white owl popped out of the edge of his wand, making him blink. It wasn’t Hedwig, no, it was too big. And then it clicked. Hermione’s animagus form had been an owl. With sad eyes, he watched the patronus fly through the stone and into the office. He was pretty sure Dumbledore’s rooms were located not far off, but as he’d never been in them he actually had no clue.

Thankfully, they didn’t have long to wait. A few minutes later the gargoyle jumped to the side to reveal Dumbledore, dressed in blue pyjamas with yellow stars, eyes puzzled. They started twinkling upon the sight of Harry, but both eyebrows rose at the sight of the student hiding behind him. “Harry? What happened?”

Harry kept his disposition professional. “Perhaps it’s best we spoke in your office, Albus.”

Alarmed now, the Headmaster stepped to the side and let them onto the moving stairs. After they’d made themselves relatively comfortable in the office, and Albus had set them all up with a cup of tea, Harry didn’t bother to sugar coat it and just started right in. “A vampire managed to get past the wards tonight.”

The older man paled behind his desk and sat back in his chair with a breath of air. “Do you know how?” he asked after a moment. “The wards should have prevented anyone with intentions of harm from coming into the school. Vampires especially.”

Ruben tensed in the chair next to Harry, so the DADA professor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder for a moment. “I don’t know why. The wards have either weakened, or the vampire figured out another way to get past. Either way, we need to strengthen the wards to prevent this from happening in the future. It was only by chance that I discovered the shadow trail and followed it back to the vampire’s victim. Mr. Vale here.”

Dumbledore turned his weary and saddened eyes on Ruben. “I am truly sorry for what has happened, Mr. Vale. I had been under the impression that my students were safe from such attacks, but apparently it isn’t so. How are you doing?”

Ruben ducked his head with a blush. Dumbledore’s singular attention was quite daunting the first time he held you under his gaze. “F-fine, sir.”

He nodded and turned back to Harry. “Do you know why a vampire would come after Mr. Vale? It seems unlikely that a vampire would come to a heavily protected school merely for food.”

Harry wondered how he should put this. Should he mention that Ruben was a half-vampire? It was his duty to tell the man, as a professor and a friend, but as a half-vampire… But Dumbledore would never tell anyone or expel Ruben. And if there was a…  _deeper_  reason for the attempted assassination – as that was what it had been – Ruben might rather Dumbledore blame it on his half-vampire status than some sort of blood feud related to said status. “He’s a half-vampire, Albus. As you know, half-breeds aren’t treated well by either society they are part of. I believe this is the reason the vampire came after him.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened and Ruben went stiff as a board in the seat next to him. “Oh my.” He turned soft eyes on Ruben, who was staring determinedly at the floor. “You need not fear I will expel you, Mr. Vale,” he said kindly, and the student relaxed slightly and glanced up through his messy hair. “You have not harmed a single student during your stay here, and I don’t foresee why that can’t continue. Do you require a special diet that we can handle discreetly? Or do you need to leave the castle periodically to go hunting?”

Ruben’s eyes were wide with surprise and wonder. “Y-you’d… you’d do that for me?”

Dumbledore twinkled. “Of course, my boy. And perhaps it would be a good idea to contact your parents or guardians concerning recent events?”

He nodded quickly and winced. “Uh, yeah. Father’s going to be furious. I can… I can floo him if you want.”

“Perhaps that is best,” Dumbledore said, waving his wand at the fire. “Floo powder is on the side table, Mr. Vale.”

The student nodded and got up, and immediately he swayed and would have fallen over if Harry hadn’t caught him. Alarmed, the half-vampire started casting diagnostic charms. “Are you alright?” he asked, keeping his eyes steady on the student’s fuzzy gaze.

“I… I think I need blood.”

“What’s your father’s floo address? We need to get him here immediately.”

The slightly-out-of-it student rambled off an address and Dumbledore quickly moved over to the floo and fire-called. Harry kept his attention solely on Ruben. “Why didn't you tell me you were feeling the blood loss?” he asked angrily. “I’m trying to keep you alive here and you’re not making it easy.”

But Ruben was losing himself to the hunger. His dark eyes began to burn a lighter brown, fangs extending. If Harry didn’t do something soon, the boy was going to attack either him or Dumbledore. Cursing under his breath about stupid fledglings not feeding before the hunger too over, he pulled up his sleeve and brought his wrist to the vampire’s mouth. Two fangs sank in with a sharp pain, but Harry didn’t react. He’d been injured worse before. This was a mosquito bite.

“Harry?” Dumbledore asked warily as the floo  _whooshed_  and a tall and forbidding figure burst out of it.

 

The half-vampire raised an eyebrow and tried to ignore the way Ruben sucked away at his blood as if he were dying of thirst. “Yes?” he asked, completely blasé as if a vampire  _hadn’t_  sunk fangs into his wrist.

Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome looked like he didn’t know who to start accusing first. Finally, he asked, “What the hell happened here, Mr. Dumbledore?”

Not wanting the vampire – he could smell that the man was a vampire – to bend blame in Dumbledore’s direction when it wasn’t the Headmaster’s fault, Harry quickly jumped to his rescue. “Your son was attacked by another vampire. I saved his life.”

Dumbledore looked at him, amused for some reason, but Harry had eyes only for the vampire who was looking at him like he didn’t know what to think.

“And you seem to know of his…” the man trailed off, watching his son feeding from Harry’s arm.

“Yes. We know he’s a half-vampire. How much longer do you think he needs to feed before he’s fine? I’m starting to get dizzy.”

The vampire moved forward purposely, putting a hand on the back of Ruben’s neck and pulling gently. “Ruben,” he said in a rumbling baritone. He frowned when the half-vampire didn’t even seem to notice him. Pulling back one of the boy’s eyelids, he gasped at the sight of his eyes burning light brown. “You have very powerful blood, Mr…”

“Underwood,” Harry filled in, beginning to feel annoyed with this whole situation.

“Mr. Underwood. He won’t let go unless you are deemed a threat. He’s fallen too far into his instincts.”

Harry scowled. “Not a threat?” The absurdity of the whole situation caught up with him, and he snarled with his vampire instincts at the little blighter on his arm sucking all of his blood out of him. Stupid vampire not helping him get the leech off.

Ruben was up and away from him with a scurry of movement, glowing eyes wide, and Harry tongued his extended fangs. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, reaching into one of his endless pockets filled with blood pops. Pulling the plastic off three, he shoved them into his mouth.

“You’re…” the vampire father’s eyes were wide as he stared at him, ignoring his son who was trembling against a bookshelf.

Harry raised an annoyed eyebrow, knowing the glamour had weakened over his eyes. He needed to figure out a way to keep that from happening. He couldn’t have his vampire features bugging out of his glamour every time he saw blood or got in one of these situations. It would bite him in the ass one of these days.

“You’re a half-vampire too,” the vampire said, wonder in his tone.

Harry stared into those dark red eyes. “Great observational skills,” he bit out sarcastically after removing the blood pops from his mouth for a moment. Pulling himself off the ground, he brushed imaginary dirt off his robes. “Albus, will you be alright if I leave? I really need to feed.”

The older man nodded. “I believe so.”

Harry nodded and turned his killing curse green eyes on the vampire. “If you harm or kill him in some misguided attempt to keep your son’s secret, I will wipe out your entire coven and burn you slowly at the stake. We clear?” The vampire nodded with an amused quirk of the lips. “Good.” He walked over to a shadow in the wall and slipped through, travelling to the Forbidden Forest.

Knowing Dumbledore was more than capable of smoothing the situation over, he wasn’t really concerned about not being there. He could talk to the Headmaster later about the weakness in the wards. In the meantime, Dumbledore was more than capable of putting up wards around Ruben’s quarters so he could sleep at night. Harry knew a lot of defensive and offensive magic, and enough about warding to keep his ass safe, but Dumbledore had decades of knowledge over on him. Thus, Harry could focus on the hunt without worrying for the other man.

He had just finished draining the blood out of a rabbit when a stick snapped nearby. He spun around, wand in hand, to see Ruben’s father walk out of the shadows. Relaxing his stance slightly, he threw the rabbit a few feet away, watching as the vampire’s eyes followed the body as if unconcerned that Harry could kill him in an instant if he weren’t paying attention.

“So you saved my son,” the vampire drawled in that low baritone. Harry couldn’t help notice how attractive the man was. He hadn’t had sex in over ten years, so it was no surprise that he couldn’t keep his eyes off him. He needed to get laid. Maybe he’d visit a brothel in France. It was an easy thing for him to apparate international, and without anyone tracing it. “I am Aldon Vale. You are…?”

Harry pulled his mind out of the gutter. “Harry Underwood.”

The vampire stalked closer, sniffing the air. “I cannot smell that you are vampire, only that you are human. How is this?”

The half-vampire shrugged. “Good spellwork.”

Aldon nodded. “The spell Ruben is using currently… is not very effective. Would you consider teaching him yours?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. Really, what did it matter if the boy knew how to keep himself undetected to other vampires? It would save the assassin some effort. He wouldn’t have to worry about the kid getting sniffed out again. “I don’t see why not,” he conceded, licking his lips clean of blood.

Two slightly-glowing red eyes darted down to watch the movement, and the vampire moved closer. “You do not want payment?” His voice rumbled pleasantly in Harry’s ears.

The assassin raised an eyebrow. “Payment for what?”

Aldon moved even closer, beginning to worry Harry. “For saving my son’s life. For teaching him how to keep himself protected from other vampires.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. He shrugged. “The only thing you can give me is your silence concerning the fact that I am also a half-vampire. If it got around I could lose my job and my business.”

Aldon nodded. “Is that all?” he asked, only two feet away from Harry now. The half-vampire watched with constantly-analyzing eyes as a hand rose and gently caressed his cheek.

Harry nodded sharply. “That is all,” he said, moving to put some distance between them.

Aldon didn’t let him, and Harry found himself pinned against a nearby tree. The vampire leaned in closely and breathed his neck. “I hate not being able to smell the vampire in you. I can smell the power, oh yesss,” he hissed, “but not your vampire blood.”

Harry tensed. He’d never had a vampire come onto him before. “Really? Fascinating. Think you can let me go now?” he asked, testing the waters even as his lower regions began to take notice of the hard body pressed against him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fuck a vampire. It was a rather dangerous activity.

Aldon smirked and latched onto his neck. If he had sank his fangs into Harry’s neck, he would have found his head cut off, but he didn’t bite. He just kissed and nibbled and teased until Harry found his head falling back under the sensation and blood flowing to his extremities. The vampire bumped his hip between his legs, making Harry groan and buck into it. Fuck, it had been  _so_ long since he’d gotten laid. He couldn’t… control himself-

Another moan burst from his throat as the vampire slipped a hand into his pants and gripped him. He wanted to kick Aldon off him, really, he did, but he couldn’t seem to make his body move. It just felt too good after too long abstaining. He jacked off like any healthy man, but he hadn’t felt the need to  _fuck_  someone until this vampire had just come onto him with that aura of sex that all vampires had and proceeded to do a number on his libido.

He let himself give in to the pleasure, but kept his senses alert and aware of possible threat. Just because the vampire was indebted to him for saving his son’s life didn’t mean that there weren’t dishonourable vamps out there that would kill him after sex.

And then the vampire kissed him, and it was one of the hottest kisses he’d had in years. He’d fucked rent boys before, during long undercover missions where the only way to vent your frustration sometimes was sex, but none of them had had mouths this talented. There was no emotion behind it, no affection or feeling, but _desire_ , and it burned a hole in his brain and pushed him to the brink. He came with a soft groan and let his face be kissed and licked by the vampire afterwards, wanting to enjoy the haze a little bit longer.

His magic relaxed when the vampire pulled his hand out of Harry’s pants under his robes and licked the appendage clean, moving away to give Harry space to recover. The smug smirk on his face made Harry want to cut off one of his limbs, but he was in too good of a mood from the pleasant sensations still licking through his body like fire. He raised an eyebrow. “Was that payment as well?”

Aldon’s smirk widened. “No. That was for my own pleasure.”

Harry closed his pants and cleaned up the mess with an absent wave of his hand, and the hungry look in the vampire’s eyes brightened their glow again. “That won’t be happening again,” he stated firmly, wanting to cross his arms across his chest and glare, but unwilling to hinder his movements if the vampire decided to attack.

Aldon laughed. “You enjoyed it, so what is the problem?” He licked his lips and looked up and down Harry’s form suggestively.

The assassin scowled. “I don’t make it a habit of fucking people who can kill me. Period. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving.” He turned to shadow walk through the tree, but an hand wrapped around his arm. Before the vampire could react, he had the arm pulled behind his back and a conjured knife held to his jugular.

Aldon chuckled. “You are a warrior. I respect that.” He turned his head to face Harry, completely unconcerned about the knife at his neck. “I find it very… alluring. As well as your power. Did you know it pours off of you like scent of sex after lovemaking?”

Harry glared at him. “I don’t care how alluring you find it. I’m not interested.” He shoved the vampire away and pulled back, but kept the conjured knife in his hand. “Good luck with the assassins after your son,” he said sharply, ignoring the surprised look on the Aldon’s face and sank into the shadows.

Thankfully, the vampire didn’t follow him.

Feeling dirty for some odd reason, Harry rematerialized in Dumbledore’s office. The man’s expression brightened, and Harry felt even more guilty. Damnit. Why was he feeling this way? It was illogical. “Hello, Albus,” he greeted, trying to keep his reactions friendly and cheerful like they usually were.

Dumbledore twinkled back at him. “Hello, Harry. Are you feeling better now?”

The half-vampire nodded and sat down in one of the chairs. “Did you want to discuss the wards tonight?”

The Headmaster shook his head. “After Mr. Vale’s father left, I took him back to his dorms and cast a ward on his rooms. He should be protected for the rest of the night until the staff can deal with the school wards during the Christmas holidays. It is my hope that we’ll be able to fix the problem before he returns in January. If not, I’ve advised him to remain in his rooms when it is dark out, or to remain in the presence of you or myself. As long as he takes out the proper materials from the library, his marks shouldn’t suffer until we have this problem under control.”

Harry nodded and relaxed in his chair. The pleasant tingle had dissolved to an uncomfortable itch. “Sounds good. I’ll let you get some sleep then?”

Dumbledore smiled. “You should get some sleep as well, Harry.”

The half-vampire snorted softly to himself. “Not likely to happen tonight. I’ll try to get a few hours, though,” he said, standing from his chair.

The Headmaster nodded. “Pleasant dreams, Harry.”

The assassin glanced back as he opened the door to leave, offering a small smile. “You too, Albus.”


	11. Chapter 11

Harry swore under his breath as he helped the other professors escort the students to the Hogwarts’ Express. That blasted Minerva. She’d volunteered him for this ‘honour’ a week ago apparently, and he’d never even heard of it! They were tied at 3 points each, but he was  _so_  getting her something ‘special’ for Christmas.

When he noticed the children around him getting uneasy, he wiped the diabolical smirk off his face.

“Professor Underwood?” a familiar, timid voice asked from his side.

Blinking in surprise, Harry looked down to see Ruben standing there, staring up at him with his wide doe-eyes. How this third year had survived the other vampires so far, Harry had no idea. Wasn’t his father training him to survive?! He was like bait! A doe-eyed, timid, innocent, half-vampire shish kabob.

“Yes, Mr. Vale?”

Ruben scuffed his shoe against the snowy ground. “I just… wanted to say sorry. About yesterday.”

Harry blinked. “If you’re referring to my wrist, then it’s fine, Mr. Vale. Just keep yourself safe over the holidays, eh? Otherwise Dumbledore will have cast all those spells on your rooms for nothing.”

Ruben grinned a bit. “I’ll be safe. Dad’s got-“ Harry quickly cast a silencing ward around them, just in case. “-body guards for me. And Uncle Rincale is teaching me how to use a sword!”

Harry nodded, glad he’d put up a ward. Having other students learn about Ruben wielding a sword wouldn’t do much for his ‘ixnay on the ampire-vay’. “I trust you’ll be studying  _my_  subject too?”

The third year nodded with a bright grin. “Yep!”

“Good. Learning how to defend yourself with magic is just as important as physical combat. Vampires can easily overpower and out speed us. Magic is where we get our advantage.”

Ruben looked around them with wide eyes, but when no one appeared to notice their conversation he frowned.

“Never seen a silencing ward before? Might want to learn that.” Harry mentally grimaced. He was starting to care too much about this little pipsqueak.

“Will you teach me one?” he asked, using the doe-eyes again.

Harry twitched. “Depends on how long you take to learn it and how far you get ahead in my course outline during the holidays.”

Two brown eyes widened as the head bobbed quickly, sending wild black hair into an even messier mop than before. Harry internally grimaced. He just  _had_  to go and do that, didn’t he. Stupid saving people thing… If he was idiotic enough, he might even accidentally start another club like the DA. Wouldn’t  _that_  be a barrel of chuckles to teach. He mentally shuddered in disgust. “Good. I’ll see you in the New Year, then, Mr. Vale.”

Suddenly, the half-vampire got a little bashful. “Actually… there’s something else.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “The train is leaving in five minutes, Mr. Vale,” he said after glancing at the time piece outside Hogwarts’ Station.

Ruben’s eyes widened. “Um, well, my father told me to tell you that you’re invited to the coven for the holidays as thanks for saving my life and he said he would have someone come by to pick you up, on whatever date you want. If you agree.”

Harry twitched. Was Aldon so obsessed with getting into Harry’s pants that’d he’d actually use his saving Ruben as an excuse to invite him to the coven? Harry wasn’t  _stupid_. If he went there… well. He might be tempted not to return, and  _that_  was a bad idea. Vampire covens were full of many things he craved. Blood, sex, killing… Harry had been doing his best to abstain from them all for the past ten years, only letting out his darker side when dealing with the Russian Mafia Boss situation. If he got into the habit of indulging  _one_  vice, then he’d indulge another, and another, and then he’d turn into exactly what he was fighting. People like Voldemort. And vampires like Aldon.

He may be a half-vampire, but he’d never had a human drop of blood in his life. Because he knew if he did, he’d never be able to stop. And he had far too few compunctions with killing as it was.

“Tell your father that I am thankful for his invitation, but I will be declining. I am already very busy with my business, and the rest of my Christmas will be taken up with fixing the wards of Hogwarts to ensure your safety once you return.” There. That should be a good enough excuse, right? Well, if Aldon sent a vampire any way to pick him up, he’d just have to teach the vampire why you  _didn’t_  fuck with Harry Underwood.

Ruben looked a little disappointed, but nodded. Had he actually been looking forward to it? It seemed unlikely. “You might want to hurry up, Mr. Vale. The Express is leaving in a minute.”

Helping the panicking half-vampire onto the train, floating his luggage for him, Harry waved goodbye and felt relieved to finally see all the students leaving. Peace and quiet.

Well, until the next disaster, as his training screamed at him.

_wWwWw_

“Harry! Glad to see you could make the meeting. I’m sorry I sent it out so late. I was confirming the schedules of some of the other Professors,” Dumbledore greeted jovially, patting Harry on the shoulder and leading him farther into the staff room. The half-vampire blinked as he was manoeuvred over to a chair next to Dumbledore, but sat down without complaint.

“So what’s this I’ve heard about the wards weakening, Albus?” the astronomy teacher, Victoria last-name-Harry-never-bothered-to-remember asked haughtily. “The wards are hundreds of years old, and were constructed by the founders themselves. There are no  _weaknesses_  in such wards.”

Harry wanted to levitate a penny through her head for her attitude. Before Dumbledore could defend himself, Harry cut in with the intention of verbally gutting her. “Well obviously  _not_ , as we had a vampire break into the school. So why don’t you stick to star charts and leave the  _real_  magic to people with experience in their fields.”

Victoria stared at him for a moment, mouth slack in surprise. Harry wanted to sneer in derision, but kept his hate of her to a minimum. If he stayed calm and she lost her temper, it would be  _she_  who looked like a fool. “Why I never!” she said dramatically, a hand held to her chest as if she were mortally offended.

Harry opened his mouth to make another comment, but immediately snapped it shut again when Dumbledore placed a placating hand on his forearm. Sitting back in his chair, he settled for gazing at her as if she were a stupid woman not worthy of his insults. And he had nothing against women. Just stupid people.

“As Harry has mentioned, a vampire did indeed break into the school undetected last night. If it weren’t for Harry diligently walking the halls and detecting the vampire’s trail, one of our students would have died. Perhaps more, after the vampire was done.”

Most of the teachers had paled and were looking down at their coffee or tea with thoughtful and sad expressions, but Victoria was not so respectful. “How do we know _he_  didn’t let them in?”

“ _Victoria!_ ” Dumbledore barked, and the woman’s eyes widened as she nearly dropped her tea. Harry had never seen Dumbledore so irate with a fellow faculty member. Well, during  _this_  time line. But he mostly thought of the two Dumbledores as completely different people. “I will not have such accusations thrown around so lightly. He is a fellow professor, and you should show him more respect. He saved a student’s life last night.”

Harry internally gloated until he heard with his sensitive ears the nasty things she was muttering under her breath, but she backed down under Dumbledore’s tremendous aura and  _attention_ , so he said nothing. Crossing his arms, going for the regal unimpressed look, he stuck his hands in his sleeves in order to finger his knives. Conjuring up ways of killing Victoria, he tried to shove down the feeling of excitement that had quickened his blood during Dumbledore’s burst of magic and irritation. He was going to view his memories of the man’s fight against Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries that night. It would be a shallow comparison to the man he had grown to know – he wanted to see  _Albus_  in battle as he tore through enemies with that same righteous anger – but it would satisfy the itch he now found he needed to scratch.

Shifting in his pants as naturally as he could manage in a room full of people, he went back to distracting himself with images of killing Victoria. When that only seemed to exacerbate his problem, he thought of Umbridge half-naked in a tutu.

That helped.

Dumbledore’s expression of anger slowly changed into one of disappointment as he stared at Victoria. Under that gaze that was even more terrible than the puppy-dog-eyes-from-hell, she cracked and finally looked ashamed. Harry inwardly cheered. Take that, bitch!

“Now, if there are no more comments? I believe it’s a good time to move on to how to fix the wards. I have a good understanding of them as Headmaster, but as of yet have been unable to locate the problem. I was hoping another member of the faculty would have an idea or know someone experienced with wards besides myself.”

No one said anything for a moment, so Harry decided to open his mouth. “I have experience in some defensive and offensive wards, Albus,” he proffered, “Though most of my expertise is aimed towards things that could help during a conflict or with Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Dumbledore turned to him in surprise. “You are a very accomplished spell caster and crafter… but I had no idea you had ventured into warding.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yep. I have cast Fidelius many times successfully.”

Now two eyebrows rose, and many of the professors in the room gasped or stared at him. It made Harry feel distinctly awkward. “Fidelius? How many times?” Dumbledore asked curiously.

Harry frowned and started counting on his fingers. When he got to ten, he just stopped. “A ridiculous amount of times,” he concluded, staring at his hands and missing the look Dumbledore was sending him. “But most of the stuff I know is because it was useful to learn, not because I mastered that area of study. I wouldn’t be of much use. It would probably still be a good idea to find a professional.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. “That is the problem, my friend. I have not been able to get in contact with the few Ward Masters in Britain that I know. Two are in the middle of large projects, and the other is known to lock himself up in his warded house for days without answering owls. We only have so much time during the Christmas holidays to fix the wards, and even during that time the students remaining aren’t completely safe. I have taken to casting wards on all the rooms they’re staying in.”

Harry winced. That was quite a bit of warding. Dumbledore had to be feeling it. “If you want, I can go and hunt one down for you. If no one else knows someone that can help?” He looked around the room curiously. No one had seemed to want to join the conversation so far, so it was mostly Harry and Albus doing the brain storming. He wondered if any of them would be useful for anything except powering the warder.

Probably not.

Magic made people stupid.

“You would do that?” Dumbledore asked, knocking Harry’s thoughts away from the complacency of magical society.

He blinked. “Of course. If I have to go to Australia, that’s where I’ll go. There’s got to be someone out there who can help.”

Dumbledore twinkled. “Very well. When will you be leaving?”

Harry shrugged. “After this meeting, I guess.”

“And how exactly are you going to travel internationally without the proper papers or making an appointment to  _get_  them?” Victoria asked derisively, though she had toned down the level of rudeness somewhat.

Harry smiled, flashing teeth. “You let me worry about that.” They engaged in a glaring contest for a moment before Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“If there are no other suggestions from other members of the faculty…? Very well. Harry, if I could speak with you a moment before you leave. For those who aren’t staying at Hogwarts during the holidays, please stay within Flooing distance.”

Harry leaned back in his seat when Victoria was the first to break eyes contact with him, relaxing and letting his irritation leave as she walked out the door. He really hated that woman.

“Harry?” Dumbledore asked as most of the faculty left. Some remained behind and started conversations, so Harry unconsciously set up a silencing ward with a wave of his hand. The practiced motion of it elicited an amused eyebrow from Dumbledore. Harry turned his attention to the man and tilted his head in question. “I didn’t want to lower moral earlier, but how  _do_  you intend to find aid? There are few warders in Britain with the ability to even attempt to understand Hogwarts’ wards, and it is not easy to travel internationally.”

Harry smiled and wondered whether he should tell the man the truth. Well, he trusted Dumbledore. No reason not to. “I can apparate internationally without detection, Albus. The ‘travel’ aspect of this search will not be the difficult part.”

Dumbledore looked moderately surprised, but not nearly as much as he probably should have been. “I see. Is there a country you have in mind? You mentioned Australia.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. He knew of a guild of warders in Australia back in his world or time, but he didn’t know exactly when they started up. “I’ll probably look in Australia and Egypt. There are more ward  _breakers_  per se in Egypt, but it might be good to have eyes on the outside and inside. If I can enlist two warders, however, how is the school going to pay for it?”

Dumbledore waved a dismissive hand. “There are funds set aside for expenses such as these. They’ve been collecting interest in Gringotts for some time.”

Harry nodded. “What’s the range of payment? Most warders charge either by ward or how long you rent them out.” The number Dumbledore sketched out to him was surprising, to say the least. Harry whistled. “Alright then, don’t need to worry about that. I’ll also need to figure out the going rate for warders so we can barter. If there’s nothing else, Albus, I should probably get started.”

The Headmaster smiled brightly and patted Harry’s arm, which was still resting on the arm of the chair. Harry glanced down at it for a moment before looking into that twinkle. He found it odd that he didn’t really mind Dumbledore touching him. If someone else had touched him without his noticing, he would have immediately pulled away.

“Good luck on your search, Harry. I hope you return successful.”

Harry nodded and enjoyed the touch of that hand resting on his arm for a moment before he pulled himself to his feet and away. “Hope to see you in a few days, Albus,” he said as he took down the silencing ward and walked out of the staff room, feeling the pleasant warmth of Dumbledore’s eyes on his back.

_wWwWw_

After Harry had packed a travel bag of food and clothes (he’d paid a visit to the kitchens), he stood in the middle of his room, wondering if he’d forgotten anything. Deciding paranoid was better than dead, he took out his molar and enlarged it to remove his sword. Now was as good a time as any to figure out a way to shrink it and keep it on his person. Maybe a bracelet?

Looking around his room, he picked up a quill that he didn’t like and transfigured it into a chain. He’d find something better during his travels, maybe. Like a basilisk skin band or something. Or a bracelet made out of giant hair.

With a twist of power, he vanished into the shadows of his room and shadow walked through the wards. They gripped him tightly for a moment, but he managed to slip through them easily enough, and that bothered him. Shadow walking was supposed to be impossible through these wards, and yet here he had proven to himself that they were indeed weakening. What had caused it? And how long had they been like this?

The faster he found a warder, the quicker he’d get his answers.

Apparating to Diagon Alley, he went in search of a list of registered warders. The first store he found that might be able to help him was actually in Knockturn Alley. Apparently when you were looking for anything in the Wizarding World, it had to be difficult. There wasn’t just a list of registered warders anywhere.

Magic made people so  _stupid_.

“Hello, sir! How can I help you today? We do wards that keep creatures out of your gardens to privacy wards on your house!”

Harry winced. That didn’t sound very promising, though the little man seemed very excited about it all. “I need you to recommend me a Ward Master outside of Britain.”

The little man smiled, but Harry could detect a hint of derision in it. “I’m sure whatever you need, sir, does not require a Ward Master. I’m sure if you look at this list, you will find what… you’re…” He paled at the look Harry gave him.

“Do not insult my intelligence, dabbler. You are hardly what I’m looking for. I need the names of the most educated and experienced Ward Masters in the world. Now.”

He spluttered for a moment before seeming to draw up his courage. “I don’t have such a list, sir.”

Harry scoffed. “Of course you do. Everyone gets to know the competition. You would be a pitiful warder indeed if you didn’t know the top warders in the world. Now. _Names_. Or I will be spreading rumours of the incompetence of your business.”

The little man spluttered again, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of Harry’s mouth, but as Harry continued to stare him down with deadly serious eyes, he eventually caved. Muttering under his breath, he reached into some papers behind his desk and rifled through them. Pulling one out, he handed it over. “I need that copy back,” he grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes and cast a quick duplicating spell often used by students on their class notes. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he drawled, unimpressed, and left the store. Looking at the list of names and the countries they lived in, he wondered who was actually the best. Shrugging, he apparated to the Netherlands. Might as well start at the top of the page and work his way down.

He spent most of the afternoon crossing off the top eight names on the list. Some of them were ridiculously hard to get a hold of, and  _one_  he’d actually had to start knocking on the wards with his magic to get the man to speak to him. The warder had come flying out of his house spitting insults and worrying over any damage Harry could have done.

To say the least, the fact that he was concerned about a little knocking on his wards doing damage hadn’t impressed Harry in the least. After deciding the man wasn’t as competent as Harry needed him to be, he had left. Why waste time trying to appease a bitter old man?

Keeping to the countries he could speak in, he began to wonder as his list got shorter if he would actually need to brave the magical world of China.

He was in Austria when he finally thought he’d found someone.

_“Wirklich? Das ist ein grosses Gebäude, um das Bannkreise gezogen werden sollen. Was stimmt denn mit den Bestehenden nicht?”_

::Really? That’s a large building to ward. What’s wrong with the current set?::

Harry took a drink of coffee.  _“Ein Vampir ist eingedrungen und hätte beinahe jemanden getötet.”_

::A vampire broke in and almost killed someone.::

The incredibly tall and skinny man, who had introduced himself as Karl Lüger raised an eyebrow.  _“Wirklich? Das ist nichts Ungewöhnliches. Bannkreise gegen das Schattenspringen von Vampiren sind bekanntermaßen schwierig. Die meisten Zauberer verlassen sich darauf, dass Vampire sich für gewöhnlich von der Zauberwelt fernhalten, weil sie Angst haben gejagt zu werden. Warum ist dieser Vampir in so ein stark geschütztes Gebäude eingedrungen?”_

::Really? That’s not so unusual. Warding against the shadow walking of vampires is notoriously difficult. Most wizards just rely on the fact that vampires mostly stay away from the magical world for fear of being hunted down. Why did this vampire break into such a heavily warded building?::

Harry shook his head.  _“Dazu kann ich nichts sagen. Ich brauche nur jemanden, der die Bannkreise ausbessern kann. Wir wissen nicht, ob sie schwächer geworden sind oder jemand sie beschädigt hat. Aber ein Vampir hätte nicht in der Lage sein sollen einzudringen.”_

::I can’t go into that. I just need to find someone who can fix the wards. We don’t know if they’ve weakened or someone damaged them, but a vampire shouldn’t have been able to get in.::

Two eyebrows rose.  _“Ah, die Bannkreise waren also aktiv, aber sie haben versagt? Das ist beunruhigend. So lange die Foci korrekt aufgeladen sind, hätte so etwas nicht passieren dürfen. Nicht ohne fremde Hilfe.”_

::Aah, so you already had the ward in effect, but it failed? That is troubling. As long as the ward stones have been charged properly, that shouldn’t have happened. Not without outside help.::

Harry leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh and took another drink of coffee. He really hoped this Master would be able to help him. He’d apparated through at least a dozen different countries, and he really wanted to just get back to Hogwarts and let someone else take care of the rest of it. But that was unlikely to happen. _“Ich verstehe etwas von Bannkreisen, aber dieses spezielle Gebäude...nun, die Bannkreise überschreiten meinen Horizont bei weitem. Es ist alt, um es milde auszudrücken.”_

::I have some understanding of wards, but this particular building… well, the wards are way beyond me. It’s old, to say the least.::

Now he had Karl’s attention.  _“Wirklich? Wie alt?”_

::Really? How old?::

_“Über 300 Jahre.”_

::More than three hundred years.::

Karl’s eyebrows rose.  _“Es gibt nur wenige Gebäude, die so alt sind. Ich würde gerne einen Blick auf eure Bannkreise werfen. Mein Lohn beträgt 50 Galleonen die Stunde.”_

::There are only so many buildings that old. I would be interested to take a look at your wards. My rate is 50 galleons an hour.::

Harry considered it. Fifty galleons was a lot of money.  _“Und wenn Sie keinen Erfolg haben?”_

::And if you’re unsuccessful?::

 _“Verlange ich nichts. Ich wäre kein guter Meister der Bannkreis-Kunst, wenn ich etwas verlangen würde, nachdem ich es nicht geschafft habe, euer Problem zu lösen. Ich habe nur eine Bedingung._ ”

::I charge nothing. I would be a poor Ward Master if I charged after failing to solve your problem. I have only one condition.::

_“Ja?”_

::Yes?::

_“Ich darf meinen Lehrling mitbringen. Sie lernt seit 5 Jahren bei mir und wird demnächst ihre Meisterprüfung ablegen.”_

::You let me bring my apprentice along. She has been studying with me for five years and is soon taking her Exam for title of Master.::

Harry thought about it. It wouldn’t really be a problem, would it?  _“Nur wenn Sie beide schwören, keines der Geheimnisse preis zu geben, die sie während dieser Unternehmung entdecken. Ich muss das Gebäude, sowie auch die Menschen darin beschützen.”_

::Only if you both agree to swear not to share any secrets you discover during this venture. I have to protect the building as well as the people inside it.::

Karl agreed easily enough, so Harry decided not to haggle him down to 30 galleons. If the wards had any other weaknesses, it was better that Karl was in a good mood and possibly willing to share those weaknesses so they could be fixed, instead of vindictively keeping his mouth shut.  _“Einverstanden.”_

::Deal.::

Two eyebrows rose.  _“Sie wollen nicht um einen geringeren Preis verhandeln?”_

::You don’t wish to lower to rate?::

Harry shook his head.  _“Eure Kooperation ist wichtiger. Sollte es sonst noch Probleme geben, hoffe ich, ihr seid ehrlich und teilt sie uns mit?”_

::Your cooperation is more important. If there are any other problems, I hope you’ll be honest and share them?::

Karl smiled.  _“Selbstverständlich, damit wäre ich einverstanden. Wann würden sie anfangen wollen?”_

::Of course. I would be happy to. When would you like to begin?::

_“So bald wie möglich. Heute oder morgen wäre am besten.”_

::As soon as you can. Today or tomorrow would be ideal.::

Karl stared at him in shock.  _“Wie bitte? Wie glauben Sie innerhalb eines Tages die Grenzen überqueren zu können?”_

::Excuse me? How do you expect to pass through borders in one day?::

Harry just smiled.  _“Ich kümmere mich um den Transport. Wir werden Ihnen Unterkunft, Verpflegung und alles weitere, was Sie benötigen, sofern angebracht, zur Verfügung stellen. Sind Sie damit einverstanden?_ ”

::I’ll worry about the travelling. We will provide accommodations, food, and anything else that is reasonable that you require. Is this still agreeable?::

Karl nodded and called one of his house elves to get his apprentice and to tell her to pack for a week long trip. Harry happily chugged his coffee and poured himself another cup. Things were finally coming together. He’d only jumped through a dozen countries, insulted a handful of people, and banged on more than one set of wards.

Karl himself just told the house elf to pack his ‘usual’ bag, and sipped away at his tea. It made Harry feel better that the man had done such projects before – that the house elf knew exactly what he wanted. Hopefully Hogwarts would be safe again soon. Harry didn’t know what had happened in his own world. Had a vampire tried to break in? Because the wards during Harry’s time had been nearly impenetrable. Maybe Ruben had gotten killed in his own dimension… or maybe he didn’t exist. The assassin was getting a headache just thinking about it.

_“Meister! Es tut mir leid, ich bin fertig. Wohin gehen wir?”_

::Master! I’m sorry, I’m done. Where are we going?::

Harry turned to look at the fair-haired women that came stumbling into the room. When she caught sight of him, she put her luggage on the ground and curtsied, blushing.  _“Oh, Verzeihung. Ich war mir nicht im Klaren darüber, dass wir Gesellschaft haben. Mein Name ist Janika, es freut mich sehr Sie kennen zu lernen.”_

::Oh, I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized we had company. My name is Janika, it’s a pleasure to meet you.::

Harry inclined his head.  _“Harry Underwood. Angehm.”_

::Harry Underwood. A pleasure.::

 _“Sehr gut.”_ Karl said, standing from his chair. His house elf arrived with his bag a second later, as if it had just been waiting for that moment.  _“Ich habe kein Problem damit, sofort aufzubrechen, wenn die Situation so ernst ist.”_

::Very good. I have no problems with leaving now, if your situation is so dire.::

Harry smiled and stood.  _“Wunderbar. Ich würde uns dann Seit-an-Seit-Apparieren, wenn Sie damit einverstanden sind?_ ”

::Wonderful! I’ll side along apparate us then, if that’s alright?::

Karl’s eyebrows rose.  _“Sie müssen sehr mächtig sein, wenn Sie in der Lage sind international zu apparieren. Werden Sie einer der Zauberer sein, die die Foci aufladen und dabei helfen, die Bannkreise zu verstärken?”_

::You must have powerful magic to manage international apparition. Will you be one of the wizards charging the stones and helping fuel the wards?::

Harry nodded. _“Ja. Und, bevor wir aufbrechen, müssen sie beide den Schwur ablegen.”_

::Yes. Also, before we leave, I need you to both take the oath.::

Janika looked at her Master questioningly, but followed in his example. Satisfied that Karl had worded his oath well, and that he couldn’t easily get out of it, he held out his hands.  _“Wenn Sie beide mir Ihre Hand reichen würden.”_

::If you’ll both give me your hands?::

They held onto their luggage and held out their hands, bracing themselves for apparition. Harry tried to keep the noise down, but side-along apparating internationally with two people didn’t really facilitate stealth. Mentally shrugging, he disapparated with a loud  _crack_.

He reappeared outside the gates of Hogwarts, taking a moment to admire the sight of the school in the waning light of dusk. It truly was a magnificent piece of architecture. Hearing Karl and his apprentice gasp after they turned around, he grinned.

_“Ist das... eine der Zauberschulen?”_

::Is this… one of the magical schools?::

_“Hogwarts. Wenn Sie mir folgen würden, führe ich Sie hinein.”_

::Hogwarts. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you inside.::

“I hadn’t realized you were English. I wouldn’t have made you speak so much German,” Karl said with an amused expression, his accent rather light.

Harry stopped walking and stared at him. “Oh,” was the only intelligent thing he had to say, eliciting a laugh from Karl.

“Your accent isn’t that bad, for an Englishman. I’m surprised.”

Harry grinned and started walking again. “Thanks. The last I used it fluently was around fifteen years ago. I’m glad I still remember how to speak it.” He’d learned German before an undercover mission in Berlin. A budding necromancer had been threatening the local magical community, and after they had a bit of a civil war, post-Voldemort, their government had asked for the help of the Agency. And since they didn’t believe in translation spells, as such crutches often failed or made mistakes, Harry had spent a month drinking memory potions and suffering German teachers.  _That_  had not been fun.

Karl nodded. “You do speak well. I hadn’t realized we were going to be apparating as far as Scotland, however. I wonder how quickly I’ll be able to fix the wards with so much magic at my disposal. Are you the only one channelling, or are there others?”

They were about halfway to the school, and it was starting to get dark, so Harry cast a Lumos spell for the benefit of his guests. “Most of the other staff members are contributing, as well as the Headmaster. He’ll probably want to pick your brain. He’s done a bit of ward study, I think.”

Karl looked impressed. “Most Headmasters don’t bother to learn to understand the wards of their schools.”

Harry chuckled softly. “Albus is no normal Headmaster, I assure you.” As they arrived at the main doors, he smiled when they opened for him. Sending out a gentle wave of ‘hello’ to the somewhat sentient school, he was surprised to feel a caress in return. It was amazing how much constant absorption of magic into the very stones of a building could give it a life of its own.

With a wave of his wand, he sent a Patronus ahead to Dumbledore to let him know that he was taking the warders up to his office for the meet and greet. It was getting late, but after they got the two settled in some temporary rooms, Karl would probably want to take a preliminary scan to get familiar with them. Or at least, that was what seemed logical to Harry.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. You may call me Albus, if you wish,” Dumbledore introduced himself jovially, twinkling madly as he shook Karl’s hand.

The warder looked amused. “Karl Lüger, Master warder at your service. Karl is fine.” He motioned to Janika when his hand was released. “This is Janika, my apprentice.”

The young adult curtsied with a pretty blush, making Harry squirm a bit inside. Especially when Dumbledore bent over her hand and kissed it like a gentleman. Fingering one of the knives hidden in his sleeves, he tried to relax his suddenly stiff shoulders.

“I’m so glad that Harry was able to find someone who could help, especially on such short notice. The top warders in Britain are all occupied at the moment.”

Karl snorted. “Top warders? If you say so.”

Harry couldn't repressed his amused smirk. It was true, really. Britain wasn’t known for having the best in any profession. Snape had been a rarity.  _Would_  be, rather. And like most people as incredibly talented in his field, he was quite… well. There really weren’t words that described Snape.

Dumbledore smiled, his demeanour not giving away a hint of his personal opinion. “Would you like to turn in for the night? Or would you perhaps like to take a look at the wards?”

Karl handed his luggage to his apprentice, who took it without complaint. It wasn’t that large, but wizard luggage could be very deceiving. It probably contained a walk in closet and had lightening charms all over it. “Janika will settle us in a room for the night. I would like to take a preliminary scan of the wards on the premises.”

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Janika. “Do you mind being escorted by a house elf, Miss?”

She shook her head without a word, so Dumbledore snapped a finger. A house elf appeared with a pop. “Please take this young lady to a set of rooms in the west wing, and half some of the house elves have it prepared for her arrival.”

The house elf nodded and disappeared for a moment, probably to relay orders. After he returned, he led Janika away. The women glanced back at her Master before leaving, but Karl just shooed her on.

“Do you need me to come, Albus? I’d like to rest my feet if not. I’ve been running all over the place all day.” He smiled and raised an eyebrow.

Dumbledore smiled brightly. “Of course, of course. You would be tired. I’m sure we won’t need your assistance tonight, Harry, but I wouldn’t mind hearing about your adventures if you’re open to it? Later tonight?”

Harry nodded. “Just come by when you want to play some chess,” he called over his shoulder as he left the office. He’d picked rooms that weren’t attached to the Floo system on purpose. It was too easy for someone to just walk through.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he shadow walked to his room, not feeling like going the long way. Letting out a tired sigh, he collapsed onto his sofa and waved the bottle of Firewhisky over to him. He took a swallow straight from the bottle and let out a gasp as it burned down his throat. Merlin, what a long day. Putting the Firewhisky on the coffee table after taking another gulp, he threw a hand over his eyes to try to get some sleep.

He woke some hours later to soft knocking at his door. Pulling himself off the couch with a groggy moan, he stumbled over to the portrait, expecting Dumbledore to be there.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Albus,” he greeted sleepily as he moved to the side to let the older wizard in. The auburn-haired man wandered in with a smile and sat down on one of the chairs adjacent to the couch. Harry let himself sprawl back onto the large piece of furniture, taking another gulp from his bottle of Firewhisky. Albus watched with an amused expression.

“I take it your trip was a little more… stressful than you’d anticipated?”

Harry snorted at the hilarity of that question. Or maybe it wasn’t all that funny, but it certainly seemed hilarious after the day he’d had. “I met more incompetent people passing themselves off as competent in the past eight or so hours than I ever wanted to know. And did you know raw Kneazle is considered a delicacy in Portugal? Apparently deals of any substantial amount of money are made over Kneazle. And I had to eat one. I never want to see a Kneazle again in my life. Cooked or not.” Letting out a groan, he absently massaged his neck. If only one of the perks of being a vampire was lack of tense muscles. A headache had been growing in the back of his eyes for the past few hours. It was getting to the point where he was considering a potion. The fact that he hadn’t been getting much sleep lately didn’t help either.

Dumbledore frowned. “Are you alright, Harry?”

The half-vampire bit his lip, pinching the two muscles that held the neck upright. “I’m getting a headache,” he complained, tightening his grip to the point of pain in the hope it would help.

“Your neck is bothering you?”

Harry absently hummed an affirmative, kneading the muscles with his hand.

“A massage is always more effective when administered by another party, Harry,” Dumbledore said, amused. There was another tone to his voice that Harry couldn’t quite place.

“Really? Is that an offer?” he asked, not really expecting that the Headmaster would want to give him a massage. Looking back on it a few moments later, he chastised himself for his obtuse question.

“I wouldn’t say so if I was not offering, Harry.”

The half-vampire blinked, surprised. Oh. Well, that made sense. “Er, so how do you wanna… do this?” he asked awkwardly. He didn’t really like being touched by other people, but he figured it would be alright with Albus.

Dumbledore smiled. “It would probably be easier on my back if you could sit on the floor in front of me?”

Shrugging, Harry pulled himself off the couch with a groan and shuffled over to Dumbledore’s chair. The Headmaster transfigured a cushion and set it down between his feet. Nervous and awkward, he slowly and tensely forced himself to sit down on the floor with Dumbledore at his back, his neck exposed and his body in a position that would make it very difficult for him to move quickly to defend himself.

Mentally chastising himself – it was  _Albus_  – he sat down with a graceful movement and stubbornly stared at his crossed legs. Two hands gently settled on his shoulders, making him tense for a moment before the careful kneading motion had him relaxing. After a few minutes, his instinctual reaction faded and he began, and he leaned back against the padding of the armchair and slowly let himself unwind under that touch.

After five minutes of gently kneading his shoulders, Albus began to slowly exercise more force, alternating between his shoulders and neck until Harry finally let his head drop forward and closed his eyes.

“Is that better?”

Harry hummed. “You gonna stop already?” he slurred.

“No,” Albus said softly, an amused cadence to his tone.

“Good,” Harry muttered, unconcerned that he might be coming across as pushy. He hadn’t had a massage in… well, forever. And Albus was quite talented with his fingers, he was beginning to discover, as the older wizard found a particularly stubborn knot and began to work it with his fingers, warming up the muscles in his back before attacking without remorse. He let out a low groan as the thumb sat there, digging into the knot, waiting for it to release. It took a while, and quite a bit of uncomfortable pain, but when he felt the tense bundle of muscle finally release he let out a relieved breath and groan. God that felt good.

Mind blurring under the sensations of the massage, he absently focused on the way the fingers fluttered over his back. Rubbed the muscles there tenderly. And finally, the way those nimble thumbs would knead and pull and dig into every crevice in search of tension.

He frowned when the fabric of his shirt kept getting in the way and made Albus’s fingers slip. When it kept happening at the worst moments, he vanished his shirt with an absent burst of wandless magic. The hands on his back froze for a moment before returning to their work. Clearing his mind of the shitty day he’d just had, he felt himself completely and utterly relaxing in someone’s presence, besides Hermione, for the first time in years.

_wWwWw_

“…ry? Harry?” a soft voice asked near his ear. He blinked blearily, lifted his head, and let it fall back to rest on the cushion, all tension gone from his muscles and headache dissipated. Slowly, almost drunkenly, he closed and lifted his eyelids, trying to focus on Albus’s face.

“YessAlbuss?” he slurred, trying to make his mind focus and failing miserably.

Two blue eyes twinkled down at him. “It is getting rather late. Perhaps you’d like to go to bed?”

He blinked again, languidly. “Wha’ time is it?”

“Almost midnight.”

He frowned, confused. “I fell asleep?”

“You dozed, yes.” An amused glint warmed the ever-present twinkle.

“Oh.” Frowning, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as he went. Wow. What was wrong with him? He’d never felt like… what was a way of describing it. Goo. Eugh, but that sound so… girly _._

“Are you alright, Harry?” Albus asked as he stood, placing a bracing hand on Harry’s shoulder.

The half-vampire frowned. “I… think so.” He smiled blearily at the older wizard. “Nev’ been so relaxed b’fore.” He smiled, lifting his arms above his head and stretching to the ceiling with a happy moan, completely missing the way Dumbledore watched the muscles of his naked chest and shoulders. “Thanks. Really. I’ve never… had a massage before,” he continued after he finished stretching, smiling happily as he rolled his shoulder and found no tension. “You’re good,” he said with a grin, staring into those heated blue eyes. Or maybe it was the light of the fire? “I might have to bribe you into giving me another one, some time.”

Albus twinkled, eyes flickering down for a moment before reconnecting with his eyes. “No bribing necessary, my friend. You need only ask.”

Harry smiled, a ball of unfamiliar warmth filling his stomach, as if he’d just swallowed a whole glass of Firewhisky. “Thanks, Albus.”

The Headmaster smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

The half-vampire nodded. “Good night, Albus. Hey, we never did get around to chess. Maybe we’ll continue tomorrow?”

Albus twinkled. “Indeed we shall. Have a good night, Harry.”

Harry nodded as he walked the man to the portrait entrance. “Good night, Albus.”

Loosening his pants and slipping out of them on the way to his bedroom, he hoped tomorrow would turn out better. They had a warder and an apprentice, the first of which seemed to be competent, and Harry had enough magic to hopefully get the wards up and running by the New Year. Right? What could go wrong.

Pushing any negative thoughts out of his mind after such a mind blowing massage, he pulled himself under the covers with a happy sigh. Ensconced in his warm blankets, he fell into the world of dreams with phantom fingers teasing his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE THANK YOU TO MY TRANSLATORS:
> 
> I'd like to thank Marmee Noir and Malaquita for being lovely ladies and translating all the German for me! Well, Marmee was the translator and Malaquita Miss Grammar. :) I figured that since I already had French text, why not German if I had people who would be willing to translate? Just for the sake of consistency. And the English should have been easy enough to skip to for the people who can't read German. If you didn't like it, thanks for putting up with it anyway! :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, Harry woke up in a good mood and feeling more relaxed than he had in years. With a happy sigh, he crawled out of the warmth of his bed and forced himself into some clothes. By the light shining through his window, he knew it had to be almost lunch. He hadn't slept like that in… well, a long time. Casting some quick cleaning charms – he probably couldn't indulge in a shower, he was already rather late – he rushed out the door.

Upon his arrival at the Great Hall, he saw that the staff and the handful of students remaining for the holidays were already eating lunch. He tried to sneak inside without being noticed, but it was rather impossible.

"Harry!" Albus greeted happily. "We were surprised to miss you this morning. Did you eat on your own?"

Harry slipped into the chair next to the Headmaster with a sheepish grin. "No, actually, I was sleeping."

Two auburn eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? So late?"

Harry grinned. "Well, I don't know what it was, but I slept like a baby." He winked.

A delightful twinkle came to blue eyes. "Splendid!"

"Did I miss anything this morning? If I slowed things down, I apologise."

Albus looked surprised. "Oh dear no, Harry. Karl has been charting the wards all morning. He won't need us for a few days, at least. So there was no need to wake you."

Harry let out a small breath of relief. "Oh. Well, that's good. I'm glad. Does this mean I have the next few days off?" When Albus nodded, Harry grinned. "Sweet." He hadn't had the chance recently to go on any training binges, and he was totally overdue. During the decade he worked full time for Under the Wood, he'd trained regularly and gone on a few sabbaticals to learn new fighting forms, but there was a technique he'd been meaning to master for the past while now… And now he had access to Gryffindor's sword.

"Harry…?"

The half-vampire blinked and pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Oh, sorry, Albus. Were you saying something?"

The Headmaster smiled, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "I was wondering… if you'd like to join me for a bottle of Butterbeer later this evening?"

Harry blinked. Was… no way, Albus couldn't be… no, he'd never do that. There was no way Albus was asking him  _out_  for a beer. In Harry's time he'd been practically asexual for the majority of his life… besides the Grindelwald obsession. An obsession that, as far as he knew, could still be… well. Albus probably just wanted to spend time with a colleague and friend. "Sure, Albus. What time?"

The older man looked pleased. "After dinner? And perhaps afterwards we could engage in another game of chess."

Harry smiled. "Sure thing, Albus." He then proceeded to stuff his face with lunch. Part way through the meal, Karl and his apprentice appeared, both speaking amicably in German. They waved to Albus or Harry, it wasn't really discernable from their distance, and made their way to the lone table in the middle of the hall. They sat across from Harry and Albus with a short greeting.

The table had fallen silent. Harry frowned and washed down his mouthful with a glass of pumpkin juice.

Albus seemed completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere. "How has your morning been so far, Karl? Is there anything you need?"

Karl turned a slightly strained smile on Albus. "Ah, no, Albus. We have all the supplies we need. The charting has been going well, but there are so many wards with both simple and complicated functions. It will take a while to find the problem."

The Headmaster inclined his head and took a sip from his goblet.

Feeling the atmosphere tense again, Harry started taking stock of his surroundings. The students at the table seemed both wary and curious at the same time. The teachers on the other hand… some of them carried on regular conversation, but a few shot dark looks at the two Austrians every now and then.

Especially Victoria.

Was it because they were speaking German? He knew there used to be a great deal of tension between some countries and people during this time because of WWII, but he'd never had it shoved in his face like this before. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, keeping an eye on the situation. He wouldn't have anyone pissing off the warder that he went through all that trouble to find.

Nothing happened during lunch, and Harry relaxed slightly as the master and apprentice left to go back to wherever it was there were looking at the wards. He excused himself with a short farewell to Albus and a promise to come up to his office later so they could go out for Butterbeer.

Nearly bouncing, he went to the Room of Requirement to burn off some of the energy he'd gotten from such a nice, long sleep. No one was in the area when he arrived in front of the entrance, so he walked back and forth three times thinking 'Give me a place to train' over and over again. Upon the third pass, the door appeared, and he snuck inside with a quick glance around him.

He grinned at the sight that lay before him. It looked  _identical_  to the training facilities back at the Agency. There was an area for physically training the body with weights, a swimming pool, an arena for duelling, multiple practice dummies, and even a track that went around edges of the room meant for running. It was perfect. Going over to the mats, he started the slow, relaxing process of stretching. If you took the proper time to warm up your muscles and body, and to cool it down post-activity, it gave you much less trouble in the long run. He didn't want to completely destroy all the good Albus's massage had done for his back, after all.

He spent a good three hours in the room, training his body and testing his skills against the practice dummies. They had declared full out war on him before he finally called it quits, having trouble keeping up under the onslaught of twenty dummies trying to avenge their 'fallen' comrades.

It was with a pleasantly sore body and an unpleasantly sore ego that he tried to forget how out of shape he was with some sword practice. He was relieved that his blood contract with the sword of Gryffindor still held through time or dimension travel, as it appeared to him with little work on his part. Closing his eyes to enter a calm state of mind, he focused his energy into the sword, aiming to try out that technique he'd tried to master during the war and failed. He hadn't had nearly as much experience with swords back then, or with channelling his magic through sources alternate to a wand, and he hadn't continued to work with the sword after the war because the flaming sword had been far too closely associated with Harry Potter, which was a disadvantage when you were trying to be an incognito assassin with no identity.

But now he had no reason not to master the sword in its entirety, so here he was. Attempting what he had once deemed impossible.

Opening his eyes, he pushed his magic out of the sword at the same time he slashed it through the air. He grinned when a puff of fire escaped the blade. Hey, a coughed up fireball was better than no fireball at all. It was more than he'd ever managed in the past. Getting excited, he tried again only to scowl when the sword sputtered and all he got was a puff of smoke.

This was going to take a while.

_wWwWw_

An hour later found Harry leaving the Room of Requirement, his clothes slightly scorched from his attempts to master the sword. He was sure there was a trick to it, something that he was missing, but he knew that working on one problem for hours on end and seeing no progress only hindered actual progress. Sometimes it was better to let things stew for a while. Learning wasn't exactly an exact science, after all.

"Ah, Harry! I had wondered where you'd gotten to," a familiar voice came down the hallway.

Harry turned around and smiled at the sight of Albus walking towards him. "Hey. You going to dinner?" he asked. They were only a few minutes away from the Great Hall, after all, and Harry was bloody starving.

"I am indeed. Care to accompany me?" the older man asked with a twinkle in his eyes as he caught up to Harry, who had stopped walking to wait for him.

"But of course," Harry said with a teasing little bow. When it elicited a chuckle from the Headmaster, he mentally congratulated himself. "So, how's the warding going? Are things going well with Karl?"

Albus's eyes darkened momentarily before lightening again. "The warding is going well. Things with Karl, however…"

Harry frowned. "What's wrong?" Karl was a likable enough man. What was the problem?

"Karl is a very competent wizard. A respectable wizard, where he comes from. Unfortunately, some of the staff have not been as… welcoming as I would have liked."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Victoria?"

Albus sighed. "If only it were one person. Victoria is possibly the most volatile, but not the only one to have mixed feelings concerning our… resident warders."

"I don't see what the problem is. Is it because they're German?"

Albus caressed his auburn beard with a pensive expression. "I believe that that does not help. Unfortunately, I cannot force the staff to be more welcoming, and I can only try my best to limit contact…" He sighed wearily and tugged his beard. "It is a dilemma."

The half-vampire frowned, silently agreeing. It was an unfortunate situation all around. People in general weren't accepting of change, progress, or outsiders. Wizarding society was even more so. But there wasn't anything that Harry could do about it unless someone was outright rude. It was always the subtle things that were hardest to pinpoint and do something about.

"I'm sure it'll work out, Albus," he placated, patting the older wizard on the shoulder. He reciprocated the half-smile he received even though he didn't believe his own empty words. He was going to make  _sure_  it worked out because he had a little half-vampire coming back in less than two weeks who needed to be safe when he got here.

Perhaps it was time he started 'helping out'.

_wWwWw_

He went with the warders after dinner was over, telling Albus he would visit later that night for their promised Butterbeer and chess date. When the Headmaster saw him intending to leave with the warders, he agreed without much fuss, and as they left the great hall Harry tried to strike up a conversation with Karl.

"So, how do Hogwarts' wards compare with others you've checked out before?"

Karl frowned. "Checked out?"

Harry coughed. He often forgot that his vernacular was different than the general population's during this time, and it probably didn't help that Karl's first language was German. "Uh, I mean, looked at? Examined?"

"Ah, yes. Interesting words you use. Honestly, the wards are magnificent. I have never seen a set so complicated or powerful in my entire life. I'm quite enjoying examining them." But Karl trailed off, the muscles between his eyebrows crinkling with tension.

"…but there are other things you aren't enjoying," Harry took a stab. If he had an opportunity to find out what was wrong, maybe he could do something to fix it. Maybe it wasn't the staff being jerks.

"It seems as if your colleagues aren't as glad that we are here as you and the Headmaster."

Well, that bit of hope died a quick and pathetic death. "That's because they're jealous of your genius." Okay, maybe saying the first thing that came to his mind wasn't exactly a good idea…

Thankfully, Karl just laughed. "If only that were the case. I feel as though… you and the Headmaster have made us feel very welcome here. But I believe our nationality… concerns some of the staff."

Harry snorted. "They really should have more faith. It's not like you were brought here to sabotage the school."

"No, but some see it that way."

Harry scowled. "Well they should have more trust in their Headmaster at the very least. If Albus found you untrustworthy, you would have been out of here before you could say… uh… Pumpkin Juice." When Karl laughed, he just grinned. "That took me a second."

"I noticed."

Harry cleared his throat. "Right, so… is there anyone in particular who's giving you problems?"

Karl shook his head. "Not yet, although there is that one lady who looks quite vicious."

"That's probably Victoria. If she gets snippy at you or is a bitch in any way, you just let me know, mkay? I've been looking for an excuse to tear her a new one for weeks." His lips curled in a sadistic little grin.

Karl blinked before laughing outright. "Very well. I shall do that." He chuckled some more, and then they came to a stop outside a very unassuming-looking door.

Harry blinked. "I'm pretty sure I've never seen this door before."

Karl smiled. "Hogwarts is a very smart entity," was all Karl would say before he pushed open the door and led them down a spiral staircase. Harry tried to spread out his senses to feel where they were in the castle, but all he encountered was the magic of the school, everywhere. It was if they were floating in it.

How bizarre.

"And here we are. These are the ward chambers of Hogwarts. No one may enter if they have bad intentions, and one may only enter if there is good reason. Upgrading the wards is one of them. When Albus first led me here, I have to admit I was quite amazed at the ingenuity of the Founders. This room is impossible to locate unless you are a Headmaster or the Ward Master chosen to fix the wards."

Harry blinked. "How do you get 'chosen'?"

"The Headmaster brought me here the first night and… introduced me to the castle, one might say."

Harry grinned. Wicked.

_wWwWw_

He spent the days up until Christmas dividing his time between Karl, Albus, and his personal training. When he'd actually enjoyed hanging out with Karl, he'd been pleasantly surprised. He'd learned more about wards in the past few days than he'd ever picked up at the Agency – they'd been required to have a basic understanding of wards in order to tear them down and put up simple ones for themselves. At first Karl had been a bit wary of sharing his knowledge, as Harry was both British and not a Wards apprentice, but after the half-vampire shut down one of Victoria's more provocative rants before she could really get going, Karl had been a little more amenable to Harry's curious prodding.

Christmas Eve rolled around without too much trouble. By then, Karl had a pretty good understanding of the wards and was working on discerning the hole or malfunction that had let a vampire onto the grounds. Harry could tell by Karl's apparent frustration that it wasn't going as quickly as hoped. Not that Harry could do anything to help. Until they knew what the problem was, he was basically useless. Except for good company and an occasional sarcastic comment sent Victoria's way.

Letting out a sigh, he slipped out from under his warm covers and wondered how many presents he be getting this year. It changed often depending on Darcy's moods. Some years she was irritable from being overworked and mad at him for leaving – apparently brooms were the perfect Christmas presents – and others she felt that he was too lonely and therefore deserved many presents.

Going into his living room, he shook his head at the sight of the Christmas tree that he'd half-heartedly put up after much nagging from Albus. Seeing a letter resting on the top of the fireplace, he frowned and wandlessly summoned it to him. Opening the letter with his magic, he squinted at the barely-legible, loopy handwriting inside. Scowling, he tilted his head to the side to better decode the horribly slanted and irritating text.

_Dear Harry,_

_It has not been long since our last meeting, but I find myself missing your enthralling presence. Ruben has also been speaking much of you. I would like to extend an invitation to our home for a Christmas Eve dinner. While our race does not celebrate this holiday for religious reasons, we do throw the best parties. It is my hope that you will be able to come. It begins at midnight, and do bring this invitation with you. If you decide to come, spill a drop of blood on the bottom of the page, and at midnight the invitation will portkey you to our mansion._

_I told Ruben you may be coming. He is looking forward to seeing his teacher again. Perhaps you would reconsider private tutoring?_

_Regards,_

_Aldon Raluca Octavian Valerius_

Harry's eyebrows rose, now recognizing the loopy family crest for what it was: an extremely stylized V. It was rather sneaky of Aldon to mention Ruben in the letter in order to 'persuade' him to consider going, and irritatingly enough it seemed to be working. Though, it was true that vampires threw the best parties, and he hadn't gone to a real bona fide 'party' since… well, that last time didn't count really. He'd been infiltrating a drug ring by pretending to be a prostitute, and he hadn't been able to enjoy the entertainment since he'd been  _part_  of the 'entertainment'. If there was one thing he hadn't enjoyed about his job at the Agency, it was the month of special 'training' prior to the mission and the actual fucking he'd had to do  _on_  the mission. He'd had to get close enough to the ring leader to get the information the Agency needed to take down the whole operation, even if it meant fucking him comatose so he could rifle through the files unnoticed. He'd been the only senior agent with both the stamina (read: sex drive) and disposition (read: balls) for the job.

It hadn't been pleasant, but he'd thanked whatever Powers that existed out there that the ring leader hadn't been a 300-pound tub of lard.

Though, the man's foot fetish had been skin-crawling to endure. The memory of that slick, slimy tongue sliding between his toes and probably collecting a little bit of lint between them on the way gave him shivers to that day. Hadn't the man  _cared_  that he'd been practically walking barefoot half the night, giving lap-dances and collecting probably a bit of every known drug to man up off the floor in the process?

Disgusting. Maybe that was why he'd passed out so fast, though Harry liked to believe it was his self-perceived 'skills'. He'd had to be physically attractive and sexy dancing enough to catch the eye of ring leader, the latter of which had been part of his 'training' before the mission. As for physically attractive… well, glamours used to protect his identity also allowed him to be the hottest white-haired and purple-eyed albino there.

But that was beside the point. Actually, what  _had_  been his point? Right. The party. He shook himself out of the memories of loud music, dim lighting, and the heat of another body. To his irritation, he found that he had hardened slightly at the memory of sex. He wasn't a teenager, and here he was getting turned on by a little memory of a romp he hadn't even completely enjoyed. Disgusted with his lack of control, he almost waved the letter into the fire with magic before stopping himself. Letting out a breath of anticipation and anxiety at the memory of the party, he bit his lip.

Well, it wasn't like he had to decide  _now_ , right?

Sighing, he snatched the card out of the air and placed it on the mantle of his fireplace. He should probably go down to breakfast.

_wWwWw_

The last of the staff had left the previous evening, so it was only Albus, Karl, and Janika at the table when he arrived. Both the Austrians were in a heated, but quiet argument when he walked in the door, bringing a frown to his face.

" _Was ist los?_ _"_

::What's the matter?::

As Harry sat down and helped himself to some toast and eggs, Karl and Janika traded looks, Karl one of vexation and Janika of subdued anger.  _"_ _Sie würde zum Weihnacht gerne nach Hause zurückkehren. Ich habe ihr gesagt, dass sie wohl kaum von ihnen erwarten kann, sie wegen einem Essen international zu apparieren, allerdings besteht sie darauf ihre Familie zu sehen und will nicht zur Vernunft zu kommen._ _"_

::She wishes to return home for Christmas. I told her she could hardly expect you to apparate her internationally for one dinner, but she is adamant that she see her family, and refuses to see reason.::

Harry frowned.  _"_ _Mir fällt kein Grund ein, warum ich sie nicht zurückbringen könnte. Ich meine, natürlich ist es etwas umständlich, aber ich kann wohl kaum ablehnen, wenn es in meiner Macht liegt, es zu tun._ _"_

::Well, I don't see why I can't take her back. I mean, sure it's an inconvenience, but I can hardly refuse when it's in my power to do so.::

Janika's expression brightened while Karl looked slightly surprised.  _"_ _Sie würden das aus so einem simplen Grund machen? Ich war der Ansicht, dass Seit-an-Seit-Apparieren ziemlich anstrengend und gefährlich ist._ _"_

::You would do so for so simple a reason? I was under the impression that side-along apparition is quite taxing and dangerous.::

Harry grinned.  _"_ _Nicht wenn wir von mir sprechen. Ich kann sie beide für Weihnachten nach Hause bringen wenn sie wollen. Nur müssten sie die Nacht dort verbringen und warten, bis ich sie morgen am späten Vormittag oder am Nachmittag wieder abhole._ _"_

::Not when it's  _me_  we're talking about. I can take you both home for Christmas if you'd like. The only thing is, you'd have to stay the night and wait for me to pick you up again late in the morning or in the afternoon tomorrow.::

Karl shrugged.  _"_ _Ich hab keinen Grund zurückzugehen. Ich bin zufrieden damit an den Bannkreisen zu arbeiten. Ich denke, dass ich kurz davor stehe, das Problem zu erkennen und es würde mir sehr missfallen, wenn ich abreise, mir dann etwas klar wird, das ich übersehen habe und ich meine Überlegungen nicht durch arbeiten an den Bannkreisen überprüfen kann. Janika jedoch scheint der Vorschlag sehr gut zu gefallen. Wenn sie dazu bereit wären, habe ich nichts dagegen sie gehen zu lassen._ _Die Bannkreise sind kompliziert genug. Es ist nicht so, dass ich nicht auch auf sie verzichten kann._ _"_

::I have no reason to return. I am content to work on the wards. I think I am close to understanding the problem, and it would displease me if I left, realized something I had missed, and could not verify my thoughts by working on the wards. Janika, on the other hand, seems to be quite pleased with this idea. If you are willing, I am not adverse to letting her go. The wards are complicated enough that she is not an irreplaceable asset.::

Harry winced at the look on Janika's face at that comment. Ouch.  _"_ _In Ordnung. Wann würden sie aufbrechen wollen, mein Fräulein?_ _"_

::Alright then. When would like to go, Miss?::

Cheeks reddened and expression slightly shamed, she lowered her head.  _"_ _So bald es ihnen recht ist, mein Herr."_

::As soon as is convenient for you, sir.::

Harry nodded.  _"_ _Ich werde sie nach dem Frühstück zu Karls Haus bringen. Sie können selbst nach Hause apparieren? Ich hab Ihren Wohnort noch nie gesehen, also werde ich nicht in der Lage sein sie persönlich dort hinzubringen._ _"_

::I will take you back to Karl's house after breakfast. You can apparate yourself home, yes? I've never seen your home, so I won't be able to take you there myself.::

She nodded.  _"_ _Ja ich kann apparieren. Vielen Dank, mein Herr._ _"_

::Yes, I can apparate. Thank you very much, sir.::

" _Kein Problem._ _"_

::It's not a problem.::

Without another word, he dug into his breakfast with gusto, waving to Albus, who seemed to be trying to catch his eye. The Headmaster didn't say anything, but he kept looking back and forth between Karl and Janika with a questioning expression. Harry just shook his head slightly and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He'd tell the older man about it later if he asked.

Unfortunately for the Headmaster, he didn't get a chance to ask because as soon as breakfast finished, Harry was escorting Janika off the grounds so he could side-along apparate her back to Austria, and after he came back he went straight to the Room of Requirement to work out.

Of course, Harry should have known better than to put off a conversation with Albus when the man wanted to know something.

His lack of foresight resulted in Albus slipping into the Room of Requirement when he was halfway through a kata with the sword of Gryffindor. Before the older wizard got close enough to get a good look at it, though, Harry sent it back to whatever sub-dimension he'd pulled it from.

"That was an interesting sword. How did you make it disappear like that?" Albus asked pleasantly.

Harry rummaged around in his brain for a decent excuse. "It was a conjuration, actually."

Two auburn eyes rose in surprise. "Really? I would think it rather difficult to conjure a sword of perfect balance and weight."

Harry blinked, and then cursed himself for giving even that much away. Damnit, but Albus made it difficult to keep secrets. Snapping his wand into his hand with a flick of his wrist, he focused his entire concentration into the conjuration of a sword that was shaped like the sword of Gryffindor, but didn't actually look anything like it.

It worked, thankfully, and he caught the handle of the blade with his left hand before it could hit the ground. Swinging it a couple times, he mentally grinned at the similar weight and decent balance. He knew enough about swords to conjure one, but they always broke when tested in a real battle. Probably because the metal wasn't actually 'real', it was a simulacrum. Just like you couldn't conjure gold, you couldn't conjure most other precious metals either.

Albus's eyebrows rose. "I'm impressed."

Harry shrugged and disappeared the sword. "So, why'd you come looking for me?"

Albus smiled. "To watch? I always wondered what you did when you disappeared for long periods of time."

Harry shrugged. "You caught me. So what did you want?" Albus had the tendency of skirting around the point if he wanted to avoid answering a question. It wasn't nearly as bad as the old barmy routine he remembered, but he could see the beginnings of the Headmaster's misleading conversation technique.

"I wanted to ask about the… disagreement between Karl and Janika this morning."

"Ah, right. It was simple really. Janika wanted to go home for Christmas, and Karl didn't think I'd take her home. Of course, I would, and I did, so that problem's solved. I'm going to pick her up tomorrow morning or afternoon at Karl's place. She said she'd wait there after eleven, so…" he trailed off. He really hadn't needed to tell Albus that much, but his mouth had sort of run off without him. It was so easy to be relaxed in Albus's presence.

Too easy.

It made him forget himself at times, which made the Agent in him cringe with displeasure.

"Harry? Is something wrong?"

The assassin snapped out of his brooding thoughts and shook his head at Albus's inquiring look. "No, nothing. Do you want to play a game of chess after I finish my routine?"

The Headmaster brightened and popped a lemon drop in his mouth. Harry had the urge to cackle maniacally. Project 'Addict the Dumble' was a success! His vicious glee died a quick, squealing death however when Albus conjured himself an artful, comfy, and very  _red and gold_  armchair and plopped himself down in it on the edge of the matt, and then looked at Harry with an expectant look.

Cussing mentally to himself, he wondered what the hell he could practice without revealing too much to Albus. The Headmaster knew he could wield a sword, though not how good he was (and he'd rather not let loose THAT little bit of information), so he sent a wordless command to the room for practice dummies and pulled out his wand.

"You're not going to finish your sword practice?" Albus asked him before he could even get off the first spell, distracting him and almost getting him hit with a painful stinging hex from the dummy.

Irrationally annoyed, he shot back, "So you just came here to see me work out shirtless?"

When Albus had nothing to say to that, Harry smirked, as he had his back to the other man. He purposely left his shirt off after that, deciding to get his workout by dodging the spells of the dummy rather than casting a blasting curse and blowing it up in seconds.

He took out his annoyance at an interrupted workout out on the dummy, creatively using various simple spells to torture the poor contraption until it was too busted to keep moving. The look on Albus's face – one of begrudging respect and sympathy for the dummy – had been worth it.

But he wasn't quite sure what to feel when the man had watched him strip to his boxers and jump into the pool for a cool down swim. Even though his glamour didn't really look anything like the real Harry Potter, it was still… disconcerting.

_wWwWw_

The chess game after his workout was awkward, to say the least. In order to fill the awkward silence between moves, he'd ended up ordering something to eat for lunch from one of the house-elves. He'd refused the brandy, to Albus's surprise, if only because he wanted to be sober when –  _if_  – he showed up Aldon's doorstep. What was with the names, anyway? Did he really need four of them? And hadn't he introduced himself as Aldon 'Vale', not Valerius?

Due to his slight distraction, Albus wiped the floor with him earlier than expected, but instead of sticking around for another game, Harry made an excuse about needing to buy Darcy and Irene some last minute presents for later that night and left the Headmaster's office. He'd seen disappointment in the twinkling blue eyes, and ended up leaving feeling both awkward  _and_  guilty.

The evidence was piling up that Albus found him… well. And Harry didn't know exactly how he felt about that. Sure, he felt a resonance in their magic when they occasionally brushed hands, but magical resonance wasn't a good enough reason to… well. And aside from the massage and watching Harry work out, Albus hadn't done anything overt to draw attention to the fact that he was gay or that he  _might_  be finding Harry attractive. And even if the older man  _did_  make a move, Harry had no bloody fucking idea how he'd react to it.

He'd always seen Albus as a parental, or grandfatherly figure very much out of reach. And now the dynamics of their friendship had changed his view of the man to the point where he was seeing them as distinctly different people. Dumbledore spoke barmy circles around every discussion and managed to pull the oddest of conclusions from very little information. Albus danced a bit, but was far more forward with his knowledge-seeking. Dumbledore believed in the greater good to the point where he'd placed Harry in a hateful family and doomed him to a shitty childhood. Albus didn't control a single aspect of Harry's life except their chess games together. But during those games Harry hadn't felt that hair-crawling sensation at the idea of being 'played', since it was just a game. For Dumbledore, the game had had  _real_  chess pieces, and Harry had been a Bishop; only able to move in a straight line and follow the orders of the player.

It was amazing how much his view and experience with the world had opened up once he'd left the protective shelter that was Hogwarts. He hadn't returned for seventh year in order to graduate with the expectation of joining some super secret agency in America. No, his plans had been either the Auror corps or professional Quidditch. Instead he'd gone on a assignment in his first year of grunt Auror training only to get tossed in the deep end of the blacker dealings of the Wizarding World. It was his sheer stubborn tenacity and quick thinking that had pulled him out of the ear-deep sinkhole of a shitty situation, and it was that recovery that had put him on the Agency's radar. Well, that and the fact that he was the reason their operation went hundreds of miles south of 'fucked up' in the first place before he somehow managed to miraculously fix it with his thrice-be-damned Potter Luck.

Suffice to say, they'd snatched him from the clingy hands of the British Auror Department before the Ministry had realized they'd lost him.

Sighing, he forced the extraneous thoughts out of his head and wondered what he was going to do in the four hours before he had dinner with his girls. Without bothering to go by his rooms – he kept everything important on his person at all times – he left the castle and disapparated the moment he was outside the wards.

_wWwWw_

Harry frowned down at his coffee as he thought of all the shopping he'd done in the past three hours to kill time. He'd bought the girls some more presents, but he'd also picked up some things for the… well,  _if_  he decided to go. He'd bought some new dress robes and visited a rather… well, let's just say that the second seamstress he'd visited had been of the variety that covered less flesh than most wizards and witches considered decent. It was amazing how backward this time was compared to his own. Women were still wearing long skirts, as anything shorter than below the knees made people think you were a streetwalker. A whore.

Since Harry didn't really know what was considered good fashion sense among the vampires of this time (and good fashion sense among the vampires of the future was 'the less cover, the better'), he'd picked up a selection of things. Dress robes in case this was formal – or in case it  _started_  formal. And then an outfit that was close-fitting but didn't show off any skin. And lastly, an outfit that about as revealing as the one he'd worn on the prostitute mission.

Currently he had about an hour before the girls expected him for dinner, and he was killing it by drinking far more coffee than was reasonable, he was sure. He also kept reminding himself to satiate his bloodlust before –  _if_  – he decided to go to the vampire party. He wasn't due for a week, but there was going to be bloodletting at this party whether he liked it or not, and he'd rather not get sucked into the feeding and lose control. The last thing he needed was to get addicted to human blood.

He spent the rest of the hour trapped in similar thoughts before he left the café and disapparated. The house looked the same as he remembered. Darcy and Irene had bought it together some years ago when Harry insisted that his small room on the second floor of Under the Wood was all that he needed. Before then Darcy had been living in a tiny apartment in one of the less-known wizarding neighbourhoods. But when the business had really took off, she'd felt financially secure enough to get her own place, and Irene had pitched in as well.

He walked in the door without knocking. "Hey girls, I decided to come early since-" he abruptly cut himself off at the sight of two very red women separating themselves from one another on the couch. Oh. Maybe he  _should_  have knocked for once… "Oh, sorry to interrupt. I'll just, er, come back in fifteen minutes… or longer…"

Darcy shot up from the couch. "N-no! That's n-not necessary." She smiled shakily. "It's good to see you, Harry. I'm glad you  _remembered_  this time."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Last year was a fluke! I keep telling you. The only reason I forgot was be-"

"-cause you needed to help that lady take her Christmas shopping home, and then her turkey burned and you need to help her cook blah blah- Yeah right. And like I keep telling you, you're lying!"

Harry scoffed and pulled her into a short, affectionate hug. "Whatever. We'll agree to disagree then."

Darcy rolled her eyes.

Truthfully, what had  _actually_  happened last Christmas Eve was someone had broken into Under the Wood and tried to steal all of his brooms and the safe. Harry hadn't made it to the dinner because it had taken him all evening to interrogate the guy with veritaserum and then wipe his memories and toss him through the doors of a magical hospital in Germany somewhere. He'd been too riled up by the time he'd finished setting the shop back to rights to go to the dinner without making a blunder that would blow his cover, and had instead settled for hunting in the Forbidden Forest and killing a bunch of dangerous creatures.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry," Irene said softly, smiling and hugging him once he let Darcy go.

Harry smiled. "Good to see you too, kiddo. Mmmm, that smells good. Tell me you're making my favourite."

Irene giggled. "But Harry, turkey dinner is for Christmas dinner!"

"Aw, but it's my favourite!"

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Darcy and Irene managed to keep his mind off the impending vampire party for the most part, though he couldn't keep his mind from drifting during the lulls in conversation. Before he knew it, dinner was over, much eggnog had been consumed, and Darcy and Irene were sending each other too many heated looks for Harry's continued comfort. Not that the idea of them having sex bothered him, more the idea that he  _wouldn't_  be having sex.

So they parted ways with smiles and hugs, but only after the girls had extracted a promise from him to come by in the morning for gift unwrapping and Christmas dinner.

And then he was apparating onto the edge of the Hogwarts wards and beginning his trek up towards the castle at 11:30. He had just enough time to throw a new disguise together and get dressed – if he was going. Oh, who was he kidding. He was totally going to this party. He hadn't had a night to kick back, have fun, and maybe have sex for… well, a very long time. The prostitution mission had happened less than a year before he'd been transported to this weird alternate time/reality, and his last party before then had been the night he and his team had succeeded in taking down a batshit-crazy fucker in Iceland with illusions of breeding an army of hellhound-salamander crossbreeds. How the guy had gotten it in his head to breed those two, no one had the slightest clue, but he'd managed it. And Harry's team had been stuck trying to clean off the tar-like blood off their skin hours afterwards. Their hair and clothes had been a lost cause when they'd ended up having to take a sort of acid-shower to get it off. Potions had returned their hair to normal, of course, but to celebrate the completion of the seriously-fucked-up mission, they'd gone to Joe and Jane's, a joint that provided booze, strippers, prostitutes, and other entertainment regardless of your 'flavour.'

Harry slipped into his rooms and checked the time quickly. He scowled. He had twenty minutes now. He should have just shadow-walked his way up to his rooms. Shaking off his annoyance, he stripped out of his clothes and enlarged all of his bags. Tossing all the clothes onto his bed, he started rifling through what was there to figure out what he was going to wear tonight. Figuring it'd be easiest if he put the sluttier clothes on underneath his dress robes, he looked for something that wouldn't have buckles from sexy leather straps creating bumps in the fabric.

When his eyes alighted on a shirt that he'd bought from a store that specialized in leathers, he grinned. Perfect. Grabbing it, he slipped it on and zipped it up. It was sleeveless and high-collared. He'd bought it with when thinking of all the vampires that might be tempted to take a bite out of him. If his neck was obstructed, an intelligent vampire would understand that that wasn't what he was 'putting out', so to speak. Second, he wondered what kind of pants he should wear. Knowing he was running out of time, he picked up a pair of white cotton pants that had easy range of movement. He wasn't going totally decked out as a slut, after all. Showing off his muscular biceps was enough, he figured, and then he'd leave the rest to the imagination. Slipping the pants on, he reached for the black, semi-expensive dress robe he'd bought. He was most comfortable in black, after all, and black would match whatever disguise he settled on for the evening.

Pulling on the dress robes, he was glad he had had the forethought to get something that had a high collar as well. His leather shirt would have looked quite stupid if it were popping out of a low collar, after all. Moving in front of the mirror, he cast a quick tempus spell and scowled at how little time he had to throw a disguise together. Deciding to just go with a disguise he was already familiar with, he changed his Underwood glamour to the one he'd worn during the prostitution mission. He watched as his reflection slowly changed to that of a white-haired, purple-eyed sex kitten. As his glamour actually affected physical matter rather than just changing the way light reflected off him, he ran a hand through his long, mostly-straight hair and pondered tying it back somehow. Not really having the time to find a hair tie, he slipped out of his old boots and went into the living room to grab Albus's gift from under the tree. Slipping the new dragon-hide boots on, he was surprised to find them conform to his feet with an ease that belied both good craftsmanship and excellent spellwork. Inordinately pleased with Albus's thoughtful gift, he grabbed the invitation off the mantle and sliced his finger open with a vampirically-long nail, he suddenly remembered that he'd completely forgotten to go take care of his blood lust before going to the party. Cussing under his breath, he checked the time again. Did he have enough time to get an animal from the forest? Was five minutes enough? He could always shadow-walk.

Decided, he smeared blood on the letter and stuck it in his pocket, shadow-walking to the forest in the blink of an eye. Not wanting to waste time hunting, he summoned a nearby rabbit from its den, ignoring its loud squealing as it went flying through the air. Snapping its neck to put it out of its misery, he sank his fangs into it and drained it dry. He had just finished and dropped it onto the forest floor when he felt the portkey activate and swish him away.

He fucking  _hated_  portkeys.

The place he arrived at was surprisingly… pretty, and serene. It made him wonder if this was actually the mansion of vampire.

"Sir? Are you Ha-"

Harry had his hand around the man's throat before he could finish his sentence. Two eyes widened in fear at the look on his face. Before the –  _human_  – man could speak, Harry had sunk into his mind using Legilimency and wiped all traces of his name from the servant's memories, replacing it instead with the name he had gone by during the prostitution mission: Ash.

"Lead me to Aldon," he intoned, his voice lower and full of more power than he let leak into his Underwood voice. Underwood was a likable man with some serious DADA ability, but he didn't strike enough fear into people.

The servant blathered nonsense and nodded, rather frightened of Harry considering he worked for a bloody  _vampire_. You'd think he'd have more substance.

"Ah, Andrew, you're ba- who's this?"

"This is Ash, sir, the man you asked me to wait for in the East garden."

Aldon frowned, and Harry smirked. "So good to see you again, Aldon. How is Ruben doing?" he purred, putting up a wandless silencing spell around the two of them.

The vampire's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "Harry?"

"Bingo. So, care to tell me how many other  _people_  know my fucking name?" he growled.

Aldon frowned. "Only Andrew here. I gave him a description and your name, so he knew who you were when –  _if_  you chose to come."

"Just him?"

"Yes, yes. Calm yourself. Andrew is loyal to me, and me alone. He would not share your name with anyone."

Harry snorted. "Well, I don't take those kinds of chances."

Aldon's eyes shot towards Andrew. "So I can see. If I promise to refer to you as 'Ash' from now on, would you be less inclined to alter the minds of my servants?"

Harry smirked. "I might. Keeping my identity secret and my job secure is very important to me… Aldon. I trust you will honour this secret and not prove my trust unfounded?"

Aldon raised an eyebrow, but his lip twitched imperceptibly in a smile. "You need not fear about that, 'Ash.' You saved my son's life, and secrecy is hardly difficult payment for that kind of debt."

Harry, in his Ash disguise, nodded. "Good. I'm glad we have an understanding. Now, tell me. What is the dress code for this party? I hope I am not too over or underdressed?"

Aldon's eyes slid up and down his form. "First is dinner, then the party. I'm sure we can find something suitable for you to wear later."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "I've already got that covered. I'd prefer to be dressed in more than a g-string and a leather harness, thanks."

The vampire chuckled slightly at the sarcastic edge to Harry's voice. "Oh, that is unfortunate." His dark red eyes glittered with an inhuman light when he glanced back at Harry, his lips curled in a smug little smirk.

Harry pretended to not notice, instead looking around at the mansion they were walking through. It really was a nice place, even if the vampire had purposely left it with little lighting, sending corners and some corridors into shifting shadow. It made sense to do so, for a vampire. It wasn't like they couldn't see in the dark, so they probably had just enough lighting for the slave- ah, 'servants' walking around.

The hall Aldon led him to was just as dim as the rest of the place, and Harry followed him through the milling bodies of slaves, 'servants', and vampires. Many couldn't take their eyes off him. He knew they were trying to figure out whether or not he was a vampire, as physical clues and smell pointed to human, but the way he walked and held their eyes made him something  _more_. Something unexpected. Vampires loved a mystery. They also had an obsession with power. And more often than not, _possessing_  that power, no matter if it came in the form of a precious stone or something that bled.

Finally, they arrived at what appeared to be the main table, and Aldon sat down, motioning for Harry to take a seat on his left and help himself to the refreshments. Suddenly, the half-vampire was glad he'd fed before he came here. If not, his eyes would already be glowing green through his glamour and his fangs would be extended. The amount of blood on the table had him wondering if they'd slashed several throats for this party. Forgoing the blood altogether, he selected for himself a steak, some vegetables, and a baked potato. A glance around at the other tables showed no such selection of human foods. So, Aldon had had it prepared for  _him_. While part of him was annoyed for being singled out, the other half was looking into all the possible meanings that could be behind such an action. For the host to have human food brought to what appeared to be an all-vampire party? And to have the 'human' sit on his left at the head table? He could imagine some very confused vampires were wondering what was up. Very few blood-suckers had any amount of respect for a human, and certainly not enough to treat one as their equal.

No, he was special. And Aldon had made sure everyone knew it. Harry wasn't so naïve as to believe that the vampire had had him sit up there only for his company.

"How is… work going?" the older vampire asked delicately, sipping from what was probably a mixture of wine and blood.

Harry started cutting off a piece of steak. "It is going well. That incident, you remember the one. Well, it's being handled right now. Hopefully things will be taken care of before the New Year."

Aldon inclined his head with a small, pleased turn of the lips. "Very good." His eyes slid across Harry's face and down his clothes, not hiding his interest in the least. Harry wondered if he was intending to get another 'taste' of flesh before the evening was out. He had to admit to himself that the idea of a good shag was looking pretty nice.

"Aldon, darling, who is your new friend? You have yet to introduce him to everyone."

The older vampire raised an eyebrow in the direction of a lady dressed in a pristine, cream-colored dress that was probably more than a couple decades behind the times. She stood behind him, hands carefully folded in front of her. "Elvira. I see you are looking quite stunning this evening." Red eyes slid back to Harry. "This is my Child, Elvira. She is one of my eldest, and quite vicious to anger, though you would not think from her youthful appearance and soft disposition."

Elvira shot Aldon a dark look before turning her charm towards Harry. "Pleased to meet a guest of the Master."

When Aldon made to move to introduce him, Harry's lips twitched in amusement. Standing smoothly, he purred, "Good evening, Lady Elvira. You may call me Ash." Taking the proffered hand, he kissed the back of it with all the decorum worthy of one of the elder children of a powerful vampire. He wasn't sure exactly how powerful Aldon was, but he was beginning to get an idea.

Elvira's cheeks flushed a pretty pink and she batted her eyelashes at him. This entertained him, as he knew the only reason why she was able to blush at all was because she had been drinking so much.

"It is a pleasure, Mr. Ash," she whispered huskily to him, curtseying.

Harry turned up the charm. "Just Ash, my dear Lady."

She turned even pinker and curtseyed again before rushing away.

Harry sat back down and went back to his steak.

"You do realize she will be spreading gossip the moment she joins the crowd?" Aldon said quietly, and it was only Harry's enhanced hearing that allowed him to pick it up.

"Of course. First impressions, and all that."

Aldon laughed. "So you do know a little politicking."

Harry shrugged. "Just enough to survive, I'd like to think. It's not really a favoured pastime." They sat in silence for a time after that, Harry enjoying his late supper, and Aldon sipping at his wine. It wasn't until the formal dinner finished that big band music changed to that of muggle clubs. Harry was surprised to hear muggle music at a vampire's house, though he didn't let it show. He shouldn't have been surprised, really, as vampires were known for borrowing things they liked from the cultures around them.

As the few tables were cleared away by servants, Aldon led Harry deeper into the crowd to a lush-looking couch along one wall. Harry paid special attention to how much Aldon's presence affected the vampires around him, and was impressed with how they managed to keep their attention on him at all times without appearing to do so. This meant that Aldon was indeed a Master Vampire, capable of creating coherent Children as well as controlling his coven.

Aldon sat down on the couch, but not before slipping out of his dressy cloak and revealing leather pants and a half-buttoned red dress shirt underneath. He smirked at Ash. "Care to relax,  _Ash?_ "

Seeing that everyone else seemed to be following Aldon's cues and revealing the less chaste aspects of their outfits, he shrugged. Undoing the buttons and clasps holding the dress robe together, he let it slide off him with a shrugged movement. A servant appeared out of nowhere to take it, much like they seemed to have already taken Aldon's, and he let her with nary a glance. It was expected that servants were treated as befitting their station, even if he didn't agree with the sentiment himself. There was no point in pissing off a bunch of vampires at this point by not following 'proper decorum'.

"So tell me,  _Ash_ , how you came to work where you do?"

Harry settled himself down on the couch, using its empty state to put some space between them. Unfortunately, Aldon seemed to have a different idea about that, and just slid closer with a smile. "Oh you know, the usual audition process."

Aldon rolled his eyes and ran a finger over the curve of Harry's bicep. "Really. How is it you came to have the necessary… experience."

Harry smirked. "Things kept trying to eat me."

The finger paused. "Really. Why would they try to… eat you?"

"I don't know. Maybe I just smell that good?"

Aldon leaned close and smelled Harry's hair. "I only smell human."

Harry shrugged. "That's the point."

The vampire chuckled and ran his tongue along the line of Harry's jaw. "I do not see how your smelling human is supposed to deter me from desiring to… eat you."

"Ah, but it does."

Aldon slipped onto Harry's lap, and before the half-vampire realized the older man's intentions, his mouth was being consumed by a pair of cool lips. Closing his eyes under the assault of masterful lips, he relaxed into the kiss and just let it happen. He was sick of fighting, really. He hadn't had a good lay in years.

When Aldon pulled away, his red eyes were glowing with an inhuman light.  _"May I bite you?"_  he intoned quietly, and Harry could feel the subtle suggestion in it. The half-vampire scowled at him and flipped them over before the older vampire knew what was happening. Or maybe because the older vampire  _let_  him. You couldn't always tell with these old types.

Pinning the vampire down on the couch, he tossed his hair over one shoulder in a calculated move and used his wandless control over his glamour to bring a glow to his purple eyes. For anyone watching, it would make them think he was a vampire instead of a human. He'd rather have them think he was anything but a half-vampire. Their race had a naughty habit of trying to wipe out all crossbreds. It also had the dubious purpose of slowly bringing Aldon under his spell. He had no vampiric glamour to speak of, but he was trained in the Art of Seduction and wasn't afraid to take full advantage of it.

Tilting his head down so the hair fell partially in front of his face, he looked up at Aldon through white lashes while grinding his hips subtly into the vampire's lap and tracing fingertips down his chest. Seeing that red eyes were trained on him avidly, he tossed his head back and curled his spine, bring his hair flicking around until it came over the other shoulder in a practiced move. It was harder than it looked, actually. Leaning in close, he latched his mouth onto the vampire's neck and gave a teasing nibble and kiss before pulling away and continuing his lap dance.

He didn't exactly like the attention he was getting from the rest of the room, but the way Aldon's red eyes caressed his lithe body and glowed with arousal and heat made him push it out of his mind. To his amusement and pleasure, the vampire only lasted ten minutes of the teasing dance before he was pulling Harry into the shadows.

The half-vampire landed on a soft bed with a slight grunt as Aldon landed on top of him. Before he could communicate his displeasure at being lugged around like a potato sack, however, Aldon was grinding against him and unzipping his leather shirt to lay an assault on his chest. Arching into the talented mouth, he tried to think properly through the arousal. What had he… oh right.

"If you bite me tonight, we're never having sex again. Got it?" he tried to say as firmly as possible. It was kind of hard with the friction currently torturing his long-neglected dick, and instead of commanding it came out sounding airy and aroused.

Aldon chuckled, and it was airy and hot too, so Harry didn't feel so bad. "Very well. Though I do not understand why you are so reluctant to enjoy bloodletting during sex. It is quite the… euphoric experience."

"Yeah. Right. And along with it comes marks of ownership or slavery. Not making that mistake. And I suggest you don't, either, or you're going to find yourself quite unable to have sex ever again."

Aldon froze, and his eyes narrowed and glowed with anger and undercurrent of power.  _"Are you threatening me?"_  he hissed softly.

Harry shrugged. "Just communicating the terms of this… the sex." If Aldon  _did_  suddenly get stupid enough to make Harry his slave or servant, however, he had every intention of doing worse than castration. Well,  _first_  there would be castration. And then a list of other torture techniques that he'd never been able to use on humans because they just couldn't last quite long enough.

After a long staring match, Aldon inclined his head and returned to ravishing Harry's nipples. Moaning in pleasure at the sensation, he relaxed under the assault and let Aldon do all the work. He came embarrassingly quickly into the following blow job, but when the vampire didn't make any disparaging comments about it, he mentally awarded two points.

And then promptly lost count when the vampire flipped him onto his stomach and rimmed him for what must have been an  _hour_ , torturing his tight ring of muscles until they loosened under the assault. Eventually he was left moaning wantonly into the sheets, wondering where the fuck Aldon had been all his life.  _'Fuck me.'_

When the slick and talented tongue was replaced by a blunt, cool member, he wandlessly cast a self-lubricating spell and moaned as Aldon sank into him with ease. God, but he hadn't let someone fuck him up the ass since… since… well, his second squadron leader. The first one had been a real asshole that had nearly gotten them all killed in Estonia. The second had been a rather rugged-looking guy with a patchwork of scars on his face, but _fuck_  had he been an animal in bed.

He was beginning to wonder if Aldon was going to beat Liam's record on his internal list of 'Best Fuck'.

The vampire took a couple attempts to find Harry's prostate, but that didn't really bother the half-breed, because once Aldon found it he was  _relentless_. Having vampire strength helped, too. He could slam hard and push deeper without worrying about Harry's pelvis breaking.

There was also the stamina…

It felt like days before Aldon finally let him come, but it was probably only a couple of hours. The sheer torture of being brought to the brink but not being able to come nearly drove him mad. Especially because the vampire hadn't cheated and tied off the base of his cock. Oh no, he managed it with his sheer  _experience_  alone.

Finally, when Harry's magic exploded out of him and started destroying things, Aldon got with the program. With a series of inhumanly-fast penetrations and slamming against his prostate, the half-vampire was coming harder than he physically thought possible. The pleasure threatening to tear his nervous system apart, actually, nearly sent him into unconsciousness and was only stopped by his assassin training against passing out, which had him breathing through the orgasm even though it almost broke his brain to do so.

Collapsing into the wet spot under him, Harry let out a low groan and barely had enough strength to turn his head to the side to breath. And he thought  _he_  had stamina. Fuck.

"Ready for another round?" Aldon murmured into his ear, still hard inside him, teasingly kissing along Harry's spine.

Two hazy, glowing green eyes popped open in shock.

Never underestimate the libido of a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any inconsistencies, I apologize. It’s been a while since I last reread the fic, and I’m too busy to give it a good once-over. If you catch anything, please feel free to tell me so I can fix it up. I’d also like to thank Eloise Evan Rosier (Lo, is that ur FF pen?), Aina Riddle, and Absentminded Dreamer (Did you change ur pen again Dreamer?) for Betaing this chapter and finding a plethora of little spelling mistakes. I’d also like to thank Malaquita and Marmee Noir for the German translations. If there are any redundancies, it’s my copy/pasting fault, not theirs. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Harry rolled over and grunted when he came into contact with another, cool body. Frowning, he opened his eyes and came face to face with Aldon, who lay propped up on one arm, watching Harry sleep. The wizard's frown deepened. Why had he fallen asleep in a vampire's bed again?

Oh yeah, mind blowing sex.

"Good evening," Aldon purred, running a hand down Harry's chest.

The wizard frowned. "Evening? What time is it? I can't have been here that long…"

The vampire laughed. "It's 4pm. We fucked for nearly eight hours yesterday, it's no surprise you're tired."

Harry's morning wood stiffened even more as the memories of the previous night flashed through his mind. He'd been rimmed, blown, tied up, and fucked in more positions than he'd even thought possible. And then after  _that_ , Aldon had asked him to do a few scenes, play a few games… and well, let's just say he hadn't had the opportunity to whip someone until they were  _begging for it_  in quite some time. And the follow up, being tied down and teased and tortured for an hour… "Huh." Were the eloquent words to come out of his mouth as he flopped onto his back and hissed at the pain in his ass. Damn. Slipping his hand under the sheets, he cast a quick series of healing charms that would get rid of most of the damage. It wasn't a complete cure, but he'd be able to walk at least.

A hand grabbed his cock and made him twitch in surprise, looking over at Aldon. "It looked like you needed help with that," was all the vampire said with a cocky smirk.

Harry contemplated staying there for a short moment. Thought about the sex, the  _great_  sex, and all the other tempting things in this house.

And then he sunk through the shadows of the bed and popped back up again near his pile of clothes. "I need to get back," he said shortly, yanking on his boxers and sliding into the rest of his clothes. Before he could get his shirt over his head, a pair of hands landed on his chest and tweaked his nipples.

"No you don't. You could stay," the vampire murmured in his ear.

Harry let out a short, irritated breath. "Listen. It was great, I had fun, but I really do have other shit to do. Responsibilities that I can't just leave for a week in order to have crazy, wild vamp sex with you." Pulling away, he slipped his shirt over his head and tried to brush out some of the rumples. Not much liking the idea of Aldon at his back, he casually turned around to pick up his shoes, keeping the vampire in the corner of his eye.

"That's it?"

Glancing up at the vampire, he was unprepared for the emotion on Aldon's face. He looked almost… disappointed. Sad. The analytical part of his mind immediately attributed it to manipulation. If there was one thing vampires had become very skilled at, it was the art of deception. "That's it. I'm not looking for anything… long term, Aldon." Getting tired of trying to find his wand and holster, he wandlessly summoned them to his hands and strapped the latter onto his arm. Doing a quick sweep of the room, he decided he hadn't forgotten anything, except maybe his socks, but he didn't particularly care what corner those had flown into. Socks were easy to replace.

A hand caressed his cheek. "Don't leave yet," the vampire asked quietly, eyes dark with emotion and brow furrowed slightly, meant to incite sympathy.

Harry had very little of that these days, however, so the effort was lost on him. "I had fun. Goodbye." With a quiet displacement of air, he disapparated.

Upon reappearing in his room at Hogwarts, he looked around the unassuming space and sighed. Chess set, sitting innocently on his coffee table. Dry dishes on his countertop. Open bedroom door showing an unmade bed. It was all so… normal. Simple.

And completely unreflective of the person he was. Scowling, he walked over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. He was an assassin with sexual needs. There was nothing wrong with going off for a day and having all kinds of depraved sex. He hadn't been laid in years; it was totally understandable.

Then why did he feel… dirty?

Throwing his Firewhiskey across the room, he watched dispassionately as the glass shattered and the liquid splattered all across the wall. When had a fuck become not enough? He didn't understand this person he was turning into, and it pissed him off.

If only Hermione were there… she'd set him straight.

Darcy and Irene were going to be furious with him for missing Christmas breakfast.

He stripped off his Ash disguise and returned to that of Harry Underwood. Waving the mess away with his hand, he grabbed his work out bag from where he left it by the door and stormed out of his room. He needed to beat the shit out of something. He would have preferred a sparring partner, but he'd have to settle for dummies in the Room of Requirement. One more reminder that he wasn't in his world anymore. That this new world was changing him.

Deciding that walking there would help blow off some steam, especially since the castle was mostly abandoned during the holidays, Harry was completely taken off guard by shouting in one of hallways. Following the racket, he soon came across a scene that made his already simmering blood go right back up to boil.

"-none of your business!"

"None of my business? When spies start traipsing about Hogwarts, of course it's my business," Victoria's snobby voice grated on Harry's ears.

Karl looked positively furious. "Spies? We are not spies! We were hired to-"

"Hired by a teacher who's only been here for three months. He hardly knows what's best for this school. You should just leave, and take your harlot apprentice with you-"

Harry had had enough.

"VICTORIA!" he boomed, startling the woman enough that she actually dropped her wand, which she'd been pointing at Karl. The ward master still looked incensed, to say the least, but backed off as Harry came storming up to her. "The only harlot in this hall is you," he snapped, kicking her wand down the hall, one of the rudest thing a wizard could do. Wands were the most important and coveted tool of any magical human. "How  _dare_  you treat our guest with such disrespect. He's doing his best to help guarantee the safety of  _everyone_  who walks these halls, including you. So unless you can pull a ward mastery out of your ass, I suggest you shut your trap and do your damned  _job_. And if you can't manage that, then leave, and don't come back until the spring. Your measly core is hardly worth putting up with your awful personality on a daily basis."

The look on her face was so inspiringly shocked that Harry was tempted to take a picture. Instead, he glared at her with his best Underwood glare. If he used his real glare, she'd probably piss her pants and run away screaming 'murderer!'

Finally, after a long silence, she sputtered out an "Well I never!", and continued with, "How dare you speak to me that way!"

Harry snorted, unimpressed with her self-righteousness. "If you have nothing of worth to contribute, and nothing but rude things to say to our warder, then leave," he ordered. He probably didn't have the authority to kick her out or anything, but he was damn sick of her Royal Bitchy-ness.

"I am going to have a word with Albus about your unsightly, rude words to me, Mr. Underwood. I have been a teacher here longer than you have, and I deserve some respect!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh really. You're such a child you can't handle your own disputes, you have to take it to the Headmaster? What do you think he's going to say when he finds out that you've been slandering the hired help, hm? Did you imagine everything would be cake, smiles, and lemon drops? You give your feminine wiles far too much credit."

Ooh, he could see a sizzle. And steam. Or was that smoke rising out of her ears as her eyes flashed with an icy fury? 'Heheheh. That's right. I just insulted your womanhood. Bring it on, cupcake.'

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice came from behind Harry. Well, it looked like Victoria was getting her wish. Only, she seemed a little gray around the edges… she must need to get her cosmetic charms recast. Bitch.

"Albus, how lovely to see you," Harry broke in before Victoria could even open her mouth. Best to take care of the situation before she could gum it up with her prejudice. "Victoria and I were just trying to settle a dispute, I'm afraid. I came across her being incredibly rude to Karl in the hallway, calling him and his apprentice some rather terrible names. I could hardly stand by and watch her so gravely insult a ward master held in such high esteem. It wasn't right!" Inject just the right amount of self-righteousness and- bingo! 'Take that, ice-princess. I  _own_  him. You ain't got nothing on the Underwood.'

When Albus turned disappointed eyes on Victoria, after seeing Karl nod in his imperious I'm-in-fact-very-pissed-off-and-in-agreement-with-the-Underwood-right-now way, he did not disappoint. The sheer waves of dismay rolling off him were enough to incapacitate an army of cockroaches. Thankfully, Victoria was just one cockroach, albeit a very large one, and thus easily incapacitated. She sputtered for a moment, but didn't seem able to gather the wit to craft a response to defend herself.

"I'm very disappointed, Victoria. I had thought you could work past your differences, but I can see that that may be too difficult for you." Ooh, below the belt. Nice, Albus. The stricken expression on her face was so worth running into this shitty problem in the first place. "Perhaps it is best you leave for the rest of the holidays. I will see you again in January," he said, order implied and received, if the downtrodden and furious expression on Victoria's face was anything to go by. Without a word, she spun around on her heal and stormed away. Harry was tempted to cast a tripping hex on her, but held on to his self-restraint by a thread.

Next, Albus turned to Karl. "I deeply apologize for my colleague's malicious behaviour, my friend. It saddens me that there are teachers in these walls with minds so closed."

Karl shrugged. "While I am still upset, you have resolved the situation in an acceptable fashion." He turned to Harry. "Thank you for defending our honour. You are a good man."

Harry, suddenly under the intense scrutiny of two pairs of eyes, laughed nervously. "Oh, it was no problem at all. Glad I could help. Anyway, I should be going, since there was actually something I was going to go do-"

"And what might that be?" Albus asked curiously, nodding his head in acknowledgement when Karl quickly murmured that he had work to do and trotted off.

Harry's mind froze. "Uh, well, I was going to… um…" Beat the shit out of the Room of Requirement? Yeah, that would go over  _so_  well.

Albus got a sad look on his face. "Have you been avoiding me?"

Harry blinked. "No." Technically, he hadn't been avoiding. He'd just been having sex for more than 8 hours plus the recovery period… "Why would you say that?" he asked, injecting genuine confusion into his voice.

"I've been trying to find you all day." He was about to make up an excuse when Albus reached into his pocket and pulling out a… present? "Merry Christmas." Tapping it with the tip of his wand, he enlarged it to its original size, which was actually pretty large.

Harry took the present and stared down at it, wondering what in the world could be inside.

"I wanted to give it to you over tea, but as you said, you were in the middle of something," Albus said with a rather blank expression before walking off down the hall.

Harry stared after him in confusion. Finally, when Albus was just about to get out of sight, he called out, "Wait!" The man turned around, and now Harry had to think of something to actually  _say_. "Uh, how about you come over for dinner tonight? Me and the girls? I can give you your present then."

Albus smiled brightly. "Excellent! Shall I meet at your rooms later tonight to floo over?"

"We'll have to side-along. Their house isn't connected to the floo. And yeah, say, meet at six?"

"Wonderful," Albus said with smile, turning around and continuing around the corner.

Which left Harry standing in the hall, alone, wondering what it was exactly that had escaped his notice.

_wWwWw_

"Wait,  _what?_ " Darcy snapped into their contact mirror with a frown, looking far more irritable than she should have for . Well… she was totally mad he hadn't been over for Christmas morning. He hadn't been in a very good mindset last night, though, so it was probably better that they hadn't been subjected to him anyway.

"I said that I invited Albus over for Christmas dinner. He was rather… dejected about something, and I wanted to cheer him up."

" _He's_  dejected? What about us, you twat! Where the hell were you this morning? I tried to contact you earlier, but I got nothing!"

Harry winced. "I… didn't have a very good night. I'm sorry, but I ended up… sleeping it off. I woke a lot later than I normally do." That was basically the truth. Minus all the fucking.

She frowned, but some of the anger melted off her face. "Well… next Christmas you better be here. Otherwise I'm sending your assassin friend after you."

Oh, how ironic was that. Harry made sure his expression was properly repentant to mollify his favourite dragon. "We can't have that. I'll be sure to be in time for breakfast rum 'n' eggnog."

She nodded resolutely. "Good. Now, when you come tonight make sure you've brought everything. We haven't opened any presents yet."

Harry looked down at the single gift in his hand. He'd had a box of catnip delivered to Minerva ages ago, properly protected by charms to keep Minerva from smelling what was inside it and from destroying it. He imagined she'd had quite the… eventful morning. Suppressing a cackle, he schooled his face into a sheepish expression. "Will do. See you tonight, then."

She nodded again and abruptly cut the connection. Shrugging to himself, Harry slipped the blank mirror back into his pocket. He'd gotten it for them some time ago after Darcy had expressed to him, for the umpteenth time, that he  _needed_  to provide her with a way of contacting him that didn't involve emergency firecalling an already-stressed Headmaster.

Though Harry didn't see how she thought Albus was stressed. The man was one of the most chill Headmasters Harry had ever seen. Not that Harry had seen many, but you'd think running a magical school would make you a little more twitchy and a little less… quirky.

Then again, maybe the quirks had become coping mechanisms for the stress.

Not liking the mind-fuck this highway of thought was taking him, he took the next possible exit and headed for the Room of Requirement. He'd been wanting to work off some steam for a while now, and if he was lucky, he wouldn't run into  _another_  interruption on his way over there.

_wWwWw_

Albus arrived at his portrait five minutes before six and watched in amusement as Harry bounced around the room trying to make sure he hadn't forgotten any extra presents hidden under his bed, the wine, or the red and green slippers that Irene had gotten for him years ago and Darcy had threatened him with castration if he didn't wear come Christmas every year. Harry didn't really mind the eyes on him, strangely enough, and tried not to let himself think about it too much as they walked through the halls, Albus singing some Christmas carols under his breath while Harry ignored his prodding to join in. He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with five world class singers to help him, so making a fool out of himself like that was out of the question.

As they went through the grand doors that led outside, Harry paused for a moment upon seeing the vast, undisturbed plains of snow on the ground. It had been so long since he had enjoyed this sight last that it tugged at heart strings he'd long thought shrivelled. He had never been a very nostalgic person, but for some reason, being here with a man he had come to know as friend… moved him. They had come to some sort of understanding over the last few months that Harry had come to cherish as much as his past memories of Hermione and Ron and their adventures together.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry startled, realizing that he'd stopped on the edge of the snow that had creeped its way up the stone steps of Hogwarts. He turned to look at Albus, who was regarding him with a strange light in his eyes. The green-eyed man turned away with a cough and shrugged. "I guess. It's very… vast." Immediately his brain ran the words through his mind again and he grimaced internally. 'Vast.' That was the best he could come up with?

Albus just laughed, took his hand, and began to lead him through the drifts of snow, casting a spell that made the snow animate itself into little dancing elves and deer in order to clear a path across the grounds. Harry watched the antics of the animations with delight. He'd always found Albus's magic so fascinating as a child, but he'd never been able to truly appreciate it when it wasn't serving the function of saving his life. It must have cost the Headmaster a lot of magic and concentration to keep it up all the way across the grounds, but the older man didn't visibly tire, instead his eyes seemed to become even more vibrant and lively as Harry started throwing snowballs at the elves and laughing when they made affronted faces and started throwing snowballs back. Of course, Harry didn't bother to dodge and instead gloated from behind a wandless shield.

"Don't worry Albus, I'll protect you," he said with a grin as one elf almost clipped the older man in the face with a particularly large snowball. He wrapped his arm around the man's shoulder, and with it, his magic. The slightly taller man seemed to shiver from his cold arm for a moment before he let loose a low chuckle and let the spellwork fade away.

Harry frowned a bit. "Aw, you didn't have to make them go away."

Albus just smiled at him in delight, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. "When your own minions turn on you, it's time to bring the spell to an end."

Harry laughed. "But that was the best part! Reminds me of the monster snowball fights we used to have when I was a kid." He grinned at the memory of the Twins ganging up on Ron and turning him into a snowman, only for Hermione and Harry to retaliate with an army of enchanted snow storms and ice soldiers. Hermione of course had been the one to pull off the ice soldiers. Harry specialty was more ballistics and hammer tactics than the delicate work.

Harry felt the instant they left the wards of Hogwarts, and without thinking about it, he apparated them to the home of his charges. Albus stumbled upon their arrival and the assassin steadied him easily with the muscle mass he'd acquired over the years. "You alright? Sorry if it was rather uncomfortable. I don't side-along that many people."

Albus shook his head. "I was just startled. It was not unpleasant," he said, giving Harry a forgiving smile.

The wizard frowned. "Really? I always found side-along rather uncomfortable."

Albus looked intrigued. "Truly? You must have had a lot of magic from a rather young age, then."

Harry frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

The headmaster gave him a funny look. "Are you not familiar with the magical theory behind apparition?"

Harry thought back to his lessons. They never mentioned anything about what Albus was saying. "I was just told how to not splinch myself. Never learned anything about magic having to do with side-along behind uncomfortable."

Albus frowned. "Such a thing is not taught, one grows up having learned it…" Intense blue eyes locked on Harry's face. "Do you find the floo just as uncomfortable?"

"Well, yeah. I try to avoid it. It took me a while to figure out how to stop flying out and landing on my ass."

The headmaster hummed and gestured to the house before them. "So this is your home?"

Harry shrugged. After having grown up with the Dursleys, Hogwarts had always been home to him. "It's the girls'. Come, let's greet them before Darcy blows a blood vessel."

They were halfway up the path to the house when the door flew open and a very unimpressed Darcy stood in the halo of light from inside. "It's about time you decided to- Albus! What are…?" She trailed off, memory flashing in her eyes as she recalled their conversation earlier.

Harry hurried up the steps, pushing Albus along and using him as a convenient shield as their entry shoved Darcy aside. "Why, I invited him! Did you forget already? I suppose you were rather upset at the time. I'm sure you made enough food. You always try to overfeed me, I had to defend myself in some way!" He laughed at the annoyed glint in her eye as she politely greeted Albus like the lady she was and Harry shucked off his coat and boots, dumping them in the closet. "Do I smell what I think I smell?" he asked with delight as he slipped past Darcy easily and made his way into the kitchen, leaving Albus to her tender mercy.

Hey, it was a waste not to make use of a perfectly good distraction when available.

Irene was in the kitchen poking around the turkey that was filling the house with delicious smells. He snuck up behind her and gently tapped her shoulder.

"Hello, Harry," she said quietly with a smile, turning around, completely unsurprised, and hugging him. The wizard wandlessly spelled her hands clean so she could give him a proper hug and not worry about the mess.

"Hello darlin, how are you doing?"

Her small smile widened. "We've missed you."

"You just saw me last night!"

She shook her head. "Darcy is right, you know, you should visit more often. Sometimes we wonder if you're still alive or if that headmaster has hidden you away in one of his dungeons."

"I would hardly do something so cruel to our dear Harry," Albus said with tinge of amusement in his voice as he and Darcy slipped into the kitchen.

Darcy snorted. "Oh, I'm sure you'd  _never_ want Harry tied up in your dungeon."

Irene blushed and gently smacked Darcy on the arm. "None of that in polite company!" she chided gently as it clicked in Albus's mind and the older man's cheeks reddened with something not so simple as Christmas cheer.

Harry just laughed at the expressions on their faces and dipped his finger in the gravy cooling on the stove. He popped it in his mouth, humming with pleasure at the delicious flavour. Irene smacked him on the arm again with an annoyed sound and he escaped her threatening wooden spoon to hide behind Albus. The headmaster twinkled at their antics as he stood there, looking a little out of place in the kitchen. Harry decided there couldn't be any of that. "Hey girls, will dinner be ready shortly or shall I entertain our guest with a spot of chess?"

Darcy hummed thoughtfully, looking at the turkey under heating charms and the dessert that still wasn't quite ready. "I'd say you have twenty minutes until the dessert can be put in the ice box."

Harry clapped his hands together. "Lovely! Albus, if you'll come this way, I think you'll enjoy the chess set Irene and Darcy made for me last Christmas. The little figurines are really quite something to play with." Irene had carved the pieces, but Darcy had been the one to enchant them. She was also the one with the sickest humour, so to speak, and Harry was looking forward to the look on Albus's face when they used the set.

He led them into the parlour and pulled out the lovingly oiled case that held one of his most prized possessions. He left it here under his wards, where it was safest. He had a tendency of keeping volatile items in his rooms at Hogwarts and throwing things when he got annoyed, since with magic it was so easy to clean up, but he refused to chance damaging one of those most thoughtful and lovingly created gifts he'd ever received.

"There's some eggnog and rum by the tree if you want to get us some drinks while I set up the board," Harry suggested, motioning to the red and green jug that sat on a small table between the fire and the tree. It had become somewhat of a tradition a few years ago when Irene and Darcy, being the nosy little mischief makers they were, had pulled tales of his past Christmas experiences out of him and found out that he and his best friend used to spike each other's eggnog during dinner on the sly, trying to get each other drunk. After that, Darcy had made sure to always have a supply of eggnog and rum for him. While it saddened him to think that Hermione was no longer here with him, he tried to focus on his fond memories of their time together.

"Eggnog and rum? An odd combination," Albus commented, but nonetheless mixed the drinks with the glasses already set out on the little table.

"It's tradition," Harry explained simply, setting out the pieces with a small smile. He couldn't  _wait_  to see Albus's reaction to his awesome chess set.

A glass of eggnog clicked as it was gently set on the table next to the almost-set chess board. Harry watched Albus settle down on the comfy armchair and admired the way the light of the fire nearly lit the man's red hair up like fireworks in the night sky. With a gentle nudge of magic, he fed more wood into the fire and summoned one of the ponchos set on the couch. "Here. Put this on. I know it's a little chilly in the house, but Darcy and Irene seem to think that a little bit of chill never killed anyone's wallet, so Irene knitted these to keep us nice and toasty."

Albus's eyes twinkled in amusement as he pulled the tackily coloured poncho over his head and pulled out his wand to enchant the stars to sparkle. "How do I look?"

Harry glanced up as he put the last piece on the board and laughed at the twinkling stars. "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

Instead of responding, Albus summoned one of the other ponchos and enchanted the trees on it to dance. "For you," he said, making it dance a pirouette through the air to hover above him and then fall gently over his head.

Harry smiled. "Why thank you," he murmured, reaching for his spiked eggnog and taking a sip of the heavenly nectar. "You're white," he explained as he set down the glass.

Albus, who had been looking down at the board curiously, smiled. "I have to admit I wasn't sure, with the pieces being two shades of wood."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, they look rather similar if you're not used to distinguishing wood types because of your job."

The headmaster reached for the first wooden piece and gasped when the little figuring danced out from under his fingers and glared at him. He clapped his hands in delight. "This board is simply marvellous! Where did you get it?"

"The girls made it for me last year."

Albus smiled brightly as he poked at the annoyed pawn. "How do I get them to move?"

Harry laughed. "That's the hard part. Irene can speak to the wood to get them to move, and Darcy did the enchantments so they just do what she wants unconsciously. It's all about intent in magic. Do you know how to..." he trailed off as Albus picked up the idea very easily, getting the pawn to dance to the square he wanted. "Huh. Took me longer than that to figure it out."

Albus smiled. "It is similar to channelling magic through a wand," he said simply, tapping the edge of the board with his finger.

Harry stared down at the finger. "Oh. You know, it never occurred to me that touching the board would make things easier." He moved his piece will taking another sip of spiked eggnog.

Albus watched him with a fond twinkle in his eyes. "And it never ceases to amaze me how easily you wandlessly use your magic. How did you gain this ability, Harry?"

The assassin froze, eggnog halfway from his mouth and a mouthful of the sweet nectar cloying his tongue. He swallowed. How did he keep forgetting to keep this sort of thing under wraps whenever Albus was around? In his classes he remembered his wand, but somehow the headmaster always slipped under his guard. He didn't look alarmed or suspicious, thankfully, but it still irked the assassin in him that insisted any kind of slip of this kind was inexcusable.

Apparently his silence was too long, as a small wrinkle had appeared on Albus's forehead. "I didn't mean to pry, if you are uncomfortable with telling-"

"No, it's okay." Harry panicked. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. He'd just felt so guilty for making Albus upset, and now the man was looking at him with that annoyingly expectant look. "I've always..." he frowned, wondering how to wrap his entire life magic experience into only a few sentences. "I've always had a strong connection with magic. It just seemed to... come naturally after a while. I had a lot of problems with accidental magic when I was young, and they didn't seem to go away as I got older. Eventually I just learned to channel my anger and emotions into directing the accidental magic in more productive directions and slowly it became more natural to cast that way. I only need to use a wand for extremely complicated spells, these days, but I try not to cast wandlessly too often lest I frighten someone or people start watching me too closely." He gave Albus a look, as if challenging the man to betray his trust. He knew deep down that Albus would never do something like that, but it still worried him that all he had come to build here would fall apart when he least wanted it to. He had come to enjoy living in this world. As much as he loved and missed Hermione, it had been wonderful to get a chance to escape the world's expectations of him and simply be what and who he wanted to be.

Albus simply smiled and made the next move. "I've noticed you do so before, but I hadn't realised it was so easy for you. I've always found wandless casting a rather difficult and stubborn art to master."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You can cast wandlessly as well?"

Albus nodded. "I have never found it a natural experience, however. Perhaps you could give me some pointers?"

Harry's lips twitched with the beginning of a smile. "You just saying that or do you actually want me to help you figure it out? I'll warn you ahead of time, though, I've never tried to teach it to someone else before. It's not something that most people want to bother with, and Hermione was always too busy with studying, and her mind got in her way with it a lot."

The headmaster moved a piece in response to Harry's own careless move. "Do you think my mind will get in my way as hers did?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, that depends on how much you think about things and in one way. When you cast a spell with your wand, are you focusing on all the exact wand movements and pronunciation, or the actual moving of magic itself and your intent?"

Albus hummed thoughtfully and pulled out his wand to make the fire in the hearth turn green, red, and blue. "I would say I have equal focus on all aspects. Is this a problem?"

Harry smiled. "That's better than Hermione. She could cast almost any spell if she had all the details about the spell available to her, but give her the patronus charm and she was one of the people who took the longest to learn it. The first step to strengthening your wandless magic is to learn to harness intent and the natural flow of magic more strongly. If you can manage that, then I think you'll find wandless magic easier. It should feel more like breathing and less like something you have to think about, if that makes any sense."

Albus hummed thoughtfully and took a sip from his glass as Harry turned his attention back to the board and tried to think up a strategy with his distracted mind. The headmaster seemed to be following one of his old tactics, so Harry decided on messing with him. Nothing more unnerving for a tactician than trying to figure out the strategy of a strategy-less opponent. Besides the fact that Harry didn't really feel like trying to engage a hundred percent of his brain capacity on Christmas day, the frown lines that appeared on the older man's forehead when he was stumped were just too good to give up. Eggnog and consternated Albus. Lovely dish to be served next to a comfy fireplace.

"And how does one go about finding and amplifying this intent, as you say?" Albus questioned, having finished his turn.

Harry pretended to think about his strategy for a good minute before taking another sip of spiked eggnog and moving a piece at random. "Well, I find having one's own life threatened on a regular basis rather useful. Then there is being perpetually angry. However, I don't think either of those things really apply to you. Your life is hardly threatened by some over hanging Dark Lord at the moment, and you don't strike me as a rather angry individual."

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling merrily behind his glass of eggnog. "Indeed. So, you were a rather angry person, Harry?"

The half-vampire blinked. "I'm still a rather angry person at times, Albus. It's hardly something that goes away."

The headmaster raised an inquiring eyebrow. "I hardly ever see you in a state of upset. Are you sure you haven't grown out of it?"

Harry laughed. He couldn't help himself. Albus arguing after his virtue when he'd slaughtered men recently to keep his girls safe. And he'd do it again, no question about it. If someone threatened what was his, they would reap the benefits of his sword. And in the absence of that, he would figure out the way to destroy them most utterly if necessary. "It depends on what sets me off."

Taking a sip of eggnog, he carelessly moved another piece on the board, trying to suppress his snickers. A glace up at Albus showed the full might of that twinkling intelligence as the headmaster tried to figure out what was going through his mind. Instead of saying a word, he saluted the older man with his glass and gestured at the chess board. Let him try to figure it out on his own. He had no idea what Harry was truly capable of, and he never would.

"Harry, Albus, dinner's ready!"

Harry cast a stasis charm on the board and moved it out of the way. "We'll have to finish our game later this night when the kiddies have gone to bed. I'm afraid they'll hog our attention, demanding interesting stories and such. Watch yourself, or you may not be able to rest your tongue for the rest of the evening." He grinned and scooped up his eggnog before sauntering into the kitchen. "Need help moving anything to the dining room?" he asked Darcy, taking another sip of eggnog.

Darcy gave him a Look before pushing him through the kitchen and into the living room. "Hush. Since when have we ever made you do any work on this day? Let the ladies take care of things for once."

Harry laughed and let himself be manhandled out of the room. "I try to be a gentleman, and this is the abuse I get," he said over his shoulder to Albus, who was watching their antics with an amused smile.

"Women are always right, my friend. Do not have any doubt of that."

Harry laughed. It was rather true that women consistently managed to get the upper hand on him. Just take Hermione. That woman could tell him to tie his shoelaces while upside down and he'd do it for one of her bizarre experiments that only someone of her massive intelligence could understand. That, or she did it just to make him do funny shit. The fact that she often wrote things down had long since convinced him she was getting some sort of use of it, but for all he knew she could have been working on his biography in that moment. He could see it now. Headline: "Crazy shit Harry will do for his friends. If you make this list, your life will be a better place."

He snickered, letting Darcy manhandle him into the seat at the end of the table. Irene took Albus by the arm and led him to the chair at the opposite end of the table, way at the end, and Harry had to suppress his amusement at the slight pout on the man's face when he realized exactly how far he and Harry were sitting away from each other. After being seated, the girls set about dishing out the food until both Harry and Albus were dubiously eyeing their plates and wondering how they'd be able to put it all away.

"So Albus, tell us. How did you find yourself at Hogwarts?"

The headmaster blinked before twinkling merrily. "Why, I received this rather suspicious letter with green ink and a curious-looking shield on the front. Upon opening the-"

"No, silly, she means how did you get your job at Hogwarts. Everyone knows how you get accepted to study there," Harry interrupted, actually wanting to know the story himself.

Albus threw him a pout for interrupting his little serenade and sighed before dramatically picking up his spiked eggnog and bring it to rest under his nose, taking a long, drawn out sniff of the lovely concoction. "It was dark and rather dreary night," he began, eyes twinkling mysteriously over the rim of his eggnog. "I was just leaving the pub after a celebratory drink with a friend who recently won a duelling competition, when I stumbled upon this fellow being accosted by a burglar."

Irene gasped in surprise while Darcy just watched with an intrigued expression. "A burglar! What happened next, Headmaster?"

Albus, with a very grave expression, took another sip of his spiked eggnog. The gravity of his expression was slightly diminished by the rosiness of his cheeks in Harry's eyes, but instead of decreasing his enjoyment of the story it actually made him even more amused. "Well..." he began slowly. "A burglar in Hogsmeade, I thought, what a terrible turn of events. So I immediately stepped in, wand in hand, intent on putting an end to this, only to discover that it was my old Transfiguration professor accosting one of his co-workers, trying to get some sort of letter back. In a fit of brilliancy, I decided the best way to resolve this issue would be to intervene with some dazzling displays of Transfiguration." He paused. "At this venture, I'll have to mention that I had had quite a few drinks and was not in the proper frame of mind to be casting anything of any level of finesse."

Harry snorted at the very proper and almost prim way in which Albus made that statement, the twinkle in his eyes giving away his own amusement at the tale. The girls were on the edges of their seats, eyes wide with the threat of botched magic on the horizon.

When the headmaster took a sip of his eggnog once again, Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, do get on with it old man. You'll drive the girls spare with your suspenseful tactics. What did you do, transfigure your own feet into hedgehogs?" Harry grinned, baring his teeth and starting in on his potatoes. The girls hadn't even touched their food, but Harry was used to Albus's antics. Either taunt him or leave him to unravel his webs at his own pace, otherwise you'll be stuck in a land of tea and lemon drops until you've been driven mad.

Albus's eyes twinkled even more at Harry's jab. "I'm afraid that's an unrelated tale entirely, my friend."

Harry snorted. "I could see you transfiguring your own feet into hedgehogs because you were high, but doing it while in a proper set of mind is a stretch for anyone to believe. You're crazy, but not  _that_  crazy."

Albus gripped his chest, as though wounded. "Harry! That you could say such a cruel thing."

The half-vampire snorted and stuffed his mouth full of some chicken and potato so he wouldn't have to answer that.

"Well, moving along now that that interruption is over," here the girls shot Harry dirty looks, to his alarm, "I was in the alley. My former Transfiguration professor was accosting another fellow who didn't seem to want to relinquish a bit of parchment in his hand. I chose to remove the parchment from the situation entirely." He took a sip of eggnog, and Harry snorted again through his mouthful of potatoes and chicken. The girls shot him dirty looks,  _again_. What had crawled into their bonnets tonight? "I transfigured the parchment into a little enchanted toy soldier that started fighting back, blade in hand and a rather chivalrous disposition." He sipped his eggnog again. "Unfortunately, it appears he was as drunk as me, cussing up a thorough storm in a Scottish brogue that left me in quite a fit." His lips quirked with a small, internal laugh. "My former transfiguration professor quickly reversed the spell and snagged the parchment out from under the surprised man, and ran at me in quite a fury, saying how dangerous it was to cast advanced transfiguration such as that while obviously intoxicated, and then told me to come inside for another drink whereupon he offered me his old position at Hogwarts. See, he had been promoted to Headmaster."

Harry started choking on his potatoes in laughter. "Headmaster  _Dippet?_ " That ball-less vermin that had let Tom get away with murder at his own school? Harry could see someone finding entertainment in holding his promotion letter over his head for a laugh. "What happened to the other guy?" he asked, curious.

Albus smiled. "Apparently it was his elder brother. I was not given the details, but I assume they went drinking together to celebrate and the elder brother decided to have a bit of fun. Anyway! That is how I got my position at Hogwarts."

The girls stared at him. "You were hired by a man so drunk he couldn't even use his wand to get back a bit of parchment?" Darcy asked dryly.

Harry started howling with laughter.

Albus looked genuinely affronted. "I'll have you know he was a highly respected scholar during his time."

Darcy snorted, watching Harry have a fit over the turkey he was choking on with some amusement. "You alright there, Harry? I didn't think his story was that funny."

Harry couldn't seem to get the Turkey out of his oesophagus. Getting up from the table, he stumbled into the kitchen and used his magic to forcefully eject the food he'd aspirated. It hit the kitchen floor with a wet plop, letting him continue his laughter. He felt a hand patting his back, and he slowly pulled himself together so he could look over his shoulder questioningly.

Albus was watching him with concern. "Are you alright?"

Harry coughed and laughed again. "I'll be alright. Just inhaled a bit of turkey is all."

Albus's concern grew. "You should have asked for help. That can be dangerous."

Harry laughed again. "I've had worse things to worry about than a bit of turkey. I'll be fine, Albus," he said, pushing himself to his feet and vanishing the mess he'd made on the floor.

"You alive in there, Harry?" Darcy called from the living room.

Harry cleared his throat. "Just choking on turkey, darling, my imminent death is nothing to worry about!" Albus gave him an amused smile. "Let's finish up dinner so we can start drinking already!"

They rejoined the girls at the table and the rest of the affair was far less alarming than the story that Albus had failed to impress them with. It had been quite an amusing beginning to the evening, however, if the sparkles in Darcy and Irene's eyes were any indication.

After dinner, they all gathered in the living room around the fire and tree to unwrap presents. Albus, apparently, had remembered to get something for his girls, and pulled out two ridiculously wrapped parcels with dancing Christmas decorations all over them. Darcy, with an amused snort, put them under the tree and gave Harry an expectant look until he caved and pulled his shrunken presents out of his pocket to be unshrunk and placed under the tree as well. He liked watching how their faces lit up, since he usually bought them things that they could never justify buying for themselves. It helped being a sneaky uber-assassin. Though the Agency probably hadn't had 'extraction of desired gift Intel' in mind when they trained him.

But they  _had_  trained him to take advantage of difference in abilities, terrain, idiocy… it was quite a long list, actually, though only the first applied in this particular situation.

"I know you've never been to Christmas in this house before, Albus, so I'll explain the rules. We go in a counter-clockwise circle, and each person picks which gift gets to be unwrapped next. If they pick a gift with their own name on it, they miss their turn. So the trick is to pick a gift that doesn't have your name on it, but you can't look."

The headmaster smiled in amusement. "I see," he said with a grave voice, but his eyes said something else entirely.

"Good," Darcy said seriously, grabbing a present from under the tree and throwing it non-so-gently at Harry. "Here you go, you lazy bum. Happy Christmas."

Harry batted his eyelashes at her. "Why darrrlin', ye didn't haaave ta, I'm s' pleased ye could fin' it in yer hearrrt ta do so," he drawled in an exaggerated southern American accent.

Darcy grinned. "You always sound so ridiculous when you do that, Harry. It's uncanny, the resemblance."

Harry shrugged and grinned. The perks of being an assassin for most of your career. "Let's see what you got for me," he said instead, a small grin on his face as he ripped open the packaging. Only to discover more packaging. He gave Darcy an amused look when he saw her smirk. "You do realize there are spells to divest presents of their multiple layers of packaging, right?"

She just continued to smirk.

"And you do realize I could just slow down my unravelling to the pace of a dead snail, hm?"

Her smirk froze, and he grinned and looked at Albus. "What do you think, my friend? I gauge this present may take a few hours to unravel. Would you all like to suffer that long of a wait until you open your own presents?"

The older man smiled. "I fear that may be too long for any young person. But, we are all mature adults. We should be able to wait, no?"

Instead of answering, Darcy tapped the present with a scowl and the enchantment that had kept it the 'forever unravelling' type vanished. Harry, who had sensed it all along, just laughed and started in on the last layer of wrapping. Opening the lid of the box revealed, he blinked at the sight that lay beyond. He quietly put the lid back on the box and gave Darcy a hard look. "Did you get this for me a while ago? Before you knew Albus would be coming over?"

Darcy stared at him for a moment before her eyes widened with realization and a hand covered her mouth. "Oh- I- I bought it ages ago and I completely forgot-"

At the growing red on her face, Harry just started laughing. "Darling. If I knew you were that concerned about that aspect of my life, I would have bought a similar gift for you."

She turned even more red. "I just meant it as a joke."

Irene and Albus looked between them curiously. "What is it?" Albus finally asked, unable to take the suspense any longer.

Harry coughed. "I don't think that this would suit your delicate sensibilities, Albus, so why don't we just leave it at that," he said, placing the wooden box on the floor. Before he could react, Albus had summoned it to himself and pried off the lid to Darcy's horror and Harry's embarrassment. He blinked at the contents inside before flushing in the cheeks. Quietly, he put the lid back on. Awkward silence ensued.

"Well." But Albus couldn't seem to articulate exactly what he wanted to say, and Harry didn't know how to diffuse the situation either.

"Look, I just meant it as a joke, I mean, you're way too tense and strung up all the time Harry so I figured maybe it'd... help?" At the look on Harry's face, she just reddened even more. "But I mean, if it bothers you, you can throw it away, I mean, I never meant to imply that you're- I mean..."

Poor thing. She was just digging herself a deeper hole. Harry couldn't suppress his snickers any longer. Finally, he just burst into laughter. "The looks on your faces... Poor Irene doesn't even know what's in there, too!" He collapsed over the side of the chair, howling in laughter. "I mean, Darcy! What ever made you think I needed a dildo?"

Her face flushed even more. "It was green."

He fell off the chair, clutching at his stomach and wheezing.

"Your favourite colour is green!"

Albus joined in, chuckling a little bit. "It's black, actually."

He face screwed up. "It was funny at the time!" she shouted, storming out of the room in enraged embarrassment.

Harry just continued to slowly asphyxiate on the floor, tears streaming from his eyes as he struggled for breath.

"You alright, Harry?" Irene asked in concern. "Your eyes are bleeding."

Immediately, Harry stopped laughing and wiped at his face. He'd gotten carried away. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be too much blood, so he just vanished it. "Must have been a trick of the fire," he said blandly, taking a sip of his spiked eggnog. "Irene, it's your turn next, isn't it?" he said, snatching the box out of Albus's hand and banishing it to his room.

She nodded, flustered as she picked a random present from the tree and checked the name. "To Darcy, from Harry."

Hearing her name, Darcy came back into the room, still flustered and flushed. Harry just grinned, while Albus's eyes twinkled.

The rest of the evening had far fewer surprises, with Irene having gotten Harry a few books to help with his school work and Darcy having bought him some new clothes, saying that he didn't buy himself clothes often enough and she couldn't stand him coming into work looking like a bum. Harry had just laughed and pulled off his shirt to put on the silk green shirt she had purchased for him. It looked rather amusing with the ragged pants he wore beneath, but they were too comfortable to change out of. Darcy had just given him a dirty look as he chuckled and put his poncho back on top of the soft, silky shirt.

Albus had gotten him a bag of candies, some of which were blood flavoured. Harry had laughed and popped one in his mouth, pretending to make a disgusted face at the girls when Albus wasn't looking. If the twinkle in his eye was any indication, he'd noticed anyway.

After the presents had been put away, the girls headed upstairs, wanting to call it a night. Harry wished them a good sleep before summoning the chess set back from where he'd left it and set it on the table. "Your move," he said.

Albus smiled and shifted a piece without appearing to think about it. That would be like Albus, thinking through his strategy during dinner time.

Harry sipped his eggnog, now more rum than eggnog, enjoying the burn on the way down and the pleasant floaty sensation of his brain. Finally, he moved a random piece again and watched as his queen was taken, not particularly caring.

The older man watched him, but said nothing as Harry moved another random piece and took Albus's bishop. The game ended rather quickly after that, as Harry was more than drunk at this point. Albus appeared to be a little flushed, but not nearly as far gone as Harry. Though, to be fair Harry had drank almost an entire bottle in the last few hours.

"So, Harry," Albus said as he settled next to Harry on the couch. "Do you often receive such gifts from Darcy?"

Harry snorted out a laugh. "She likes to pull out shit like tha' all the time, e'er since she found out my persuasion," he slurred a bit, head nice and warm, fire nice and warm, and poncho nice and warm as he basked in the drink and company. He could almost forget that Hermione wasn't here. Almost.

"Do you ever make use of her gifts?" Albus asked, voice soft and nicely mellow in the flickering firelight and light of the Christmas tree.

"Sometimes," Harry murmured, taking another gulp of his eggnog. "But she really doesn't know what she's lookin' for. I mean, I'm way past simple dildos." He snorted. Vanilla sex he could do, but it had been a long time ago that he left himself that as the only option.

Albus hummed and put a hand on Harry's knee. The wizard blinked blearily down at it before shrugging it off and taking another drink. "Last year she gave me books jokingly, but when I pointed out some things the writer had gotten totally wrong, you shoulda seen the look on her face." He snorted out a laugh. "She may know girl sex, but she sure don't know nothin' bout guy sex."

"And you are quite knowledgeable, are you?"

The hand on his knee had started kneading, distracting him from his train of thought for a second. "Uh, yeah. I've done it a lot."

"With how many people?"

Harry had to think about that. "For work or for fun?" The hand paused, but Harry kept going. "I don't really count. Haven't been that many people I have sex with for fun."

"What do you mean by 'work'?"

Harry giggled. "Can't tell you that, that'd be telling!" He took another gulp of his eggnog. Something in the back of his mind was itching at him, but he was so warm and happy and buzzed that he shoved it away. Couldn't he have a break from life once in a while?

"So, you haven't had many partners then?"

"Not really. I mean, the occasional fuck buddy yea, but a real partner? Been a while. Last one didn't work out." The hand on his knee was trailing up his thigh now, gently petting on the way up. Finally, it seemed to click in his mind, and he turned his attention to Albus, suddenly a lot more sober. "You wanna fuck me?" he asked, confused as to why Albus would be doing this otherwise.

Albus made a soft sound of disapproval. "Such crude terms," he murmured, his eyes twinkling as they captured Harry's own and his face drew closer. "I do not simply wish to take advantage of you, Harry."

Harry frowned, confused. "So you don' wanna fuck me?" He gasped as a hand grazed the line of his hardening shaft, losing balance slightly and tilting to one side. He suddenly found himself divest of a drink, but he didn't really care as that teasing touch continued. Albus was saying one thing and doing another. It was confusing the hell out of him.

"I never said that. I would like to... partner you, Harry."

"Partner?" Harry blinked. "Why the hell would ya wanna do somethin' like that? I'm not..." He frowned, trying to remember why he shouldn't be having sex with this man when his body just kept screaming for it. "You don't want... I've got... issues." Yeah, that about summed it up without explaining the... complicated... assassin... bits... and time... He arched up into that devilish touch with a whimper, the entire atmosphere coming together and making him hornier than he'd been in a long time. He just wanted- he wanted- he couldn't figure out what he wanted but really didn't want that touch to stop and and-

A mouth covered his own, warm and soft against his overly sensitive flesh. He gasped as masterful lips smoothly, slowly, and patiently plundered his mouth, the pace so completely different from what he was used to that he was grinding up into the teasing hand after only a few minutes of the brutal torture. He tried to force things faster by biting and using tongue, but the tantalizing lips would only pull away and that smooth mellow voice would make a sound and all he knew was that it meant he couldn't have  _more_  and he wanted  _more_ -

The world spun and the next thing he knew he was grinding into a warm body beneath him on the couch, panting and horny and really just wanting to get them out of these  _clothes-_

A hand came to his shoulder and pushed him back, holding him still. He growled, teeth bared with annoyance and eyes glowing with his ire.

Blue eyes, twinkling but also worried. "Harry, slow down."

Harry did as asked, pulling back with a scowl. "Why?"

A hand of long fingers came up to caress his cheek, and he bent into the warm, soothing touch, eyes closing slightly at the way the magic beneath lovingly lapped at his own. "Because I want this to be something special and unhurried."

Harry made an impatient sound. "But I'm  _horny_."

That lovely mellow voice chuckled again, "I know, but you have to do this for me, okay? I wouldn't feel right if we just jumped into things."

"But  _why?_ " Harry demanded impatiently, nipping at the hand that caressed his face. "I've never liked slow."

Blue eyes burned with an inner fire as he kissed and licked that hand. "I want to light you on fire," the voice promised lowly, the arousal colouring it making Harry's own body quiver in response. "I want you to burn up on the inside because of me, so please... let me...?"

Harry frowned before getting up off the man below him. With a wave of his hand, he banished the immediate furniture around the fire and closed the doors to the living room, locking them with a twist of magic. The next thing he did was conjure a carpet of fur on top of a thin but suitable mattress. With a grunt, he flopped back onto it and crossed his arms behind his head. "Well? Get on with it then."

Albus slowly sat up from where he'd been pushed back against the couch, looking a little startled. Harry checked back and realized he'd cast and moved a speed that wasn't really human. Hm. He should probably stop that if Albus wanted his 'slow.' He grimaced. He'd never liked slow. It was always so awkward and-

Albus slowly stalked up to the bottom of the impromptu bed, a complicated and dark shadow in his eyes. Just as Harry began to feel uncomfortable, he kneeled at the end of the bed and slowly made his way up Harry's body, teasingly caressing his legs and sides as he went until finally, he stood kneeling above Harry, legs on either side of the half-vampire's hips, one elbow holding most of his weight as he reached behind Harry's head, gently shifted the other man's hands away, took a hold of his hair, and brought his head up for a gentle, agonizingly slow kiss.

The burn of Harry's arousal was almost painful at this point, but he used every ounce of his self control to keep the discomfort at bay. He'd been conditioned to be able to turn his arousal on and off at will after that one job, but after the other night his internal systems had been completely fucked up beyond recognition, and he was finding even the simple act of keeping his dick from bursting difficult. Albus didn't seem to notice his plight, slowly fucking his mouth with lips, tongue, and teeth until Harry's discomfort actually started flirting with the pain meter. Finally, he started undressing Harry, pulling the poncho slowly over his head, trailing kisses on his face and neck as he did so. Harry bit his lip to keep the arousal and slight pain at bay, breathing as evenly as he could. He liked pain during sex, but it depended on how it was done. Finally, the man started unbuttoning his shirt, trailing more kisses and gentle bites and licks down his chest and across his nipples as they were revealed. He paused, paying particular attention to the line of Harry's hard-earned pectoral muscles and driving Harry up to a 2 as he went.

Finally, he divested Harry of his shirt and pulled it off, running his hands up and down Harry's sides and making the more muscular man burn and quiver with iron control. He had to keep it together. Had to keep it slow. The way Albus wanted it. He'd never manage slow himself, so he had to force himself to just lay here and it was driving him crazy as he tried to buck into the body above him and Albus would just 'tsk' gently and hold his hip down until he bit a hole in his lip and closed his eyes and looked away, chest heaving with every breath.

"You have no idea..." Albus said softly, trailing a finger down Harry's navel and to the edge of his beaten up pants, "...how amazing it is that I can do this to you."

Harry wasn't finding it that amazing, as the pain teased at his senses and warred furiously with the arousal burning every nerve in his body. He just wanted Albus to  _do_  something. Cut him, fuck him, suck him,  _anything_  to disrupt the sensations spinning around and around on the wheel in his brain. Finally, he cracked. " _Please_..." he said softly, so softly that Albus didn't hear him the first time. Closing his eyes with a grimace, he repeated his plea in the human range of hearing. He'd been under Aldon's hand only a day ago and he hadn't felt this out of control. Why was that? He couldn't figure out-

"What would you like, Harry?"

"Please, can I come?" he asked, iron clad control the only thing keeping him from bursting.

But Albus just smiled benevolently at him. "I haven't even done anything yet. Be patient."

Harry bit his lip and sucked on the blood to keep himself focused. "Mmmm." 3.

Slowly, Albus pulled off his pants until all that lay beneath were his tented boxers. Just as agonizingly slowly, he pulled the boxers down until the source of Harry's pleasure and pain bounced free. Harry watched through bleary eyes as glowing blue orbs looked down at him appraisingly, a slow, pleased smile curling the man's lips. "You're beautiful," he murmured, taking Harry's hard shaft in hand, making green eyes roll into the back of his head. The relief of pleasure mixed with the pain, making it even more exquisite as his body couldn't decide which feeling it liked more.

Slowly, Albus stroked, occasionally teasing with a lick to the slit to gather the copious amounts of precum leaking down his shaft and lubricating the firm but slow tugging. His balls tightened as he kept himself from coming. 4.

Albus went down on him with no warning, surround his flesh with warmth and wetness, and the pleasure tore at him as his pain blew the number chart and sent him spinning on the path of ecstasy, ripping a sob from his throat as he almost flew out of control. He could feel warm tracks falling down his cheeks as he reached the end of the line, barely coherent enough to remember he wasn't supposed to come. The rules of the games ran in the back of his mind as the rode the wave of overwhelming sensation and gods but sex with Aldon hadn't put him in such a state-

The warmth stopped abruptly, and Harry's chest heaved as he tried to bring himself back under control.

A gentle finger came to his cheek and brushed the wetness away, prompting Harry to open his eyes. He knew they glowed because when they had been closed, his eyelids had been green instead of red, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

The half-vampire moaned, eyes rolling back as he tried to bring himself back enough to speak. Albus was purposely trying to torture him.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? Why are you crying?"

Harry had to pry his teeth apart in order to speak. "You…" His throat collapsed under the pressure bottled up within him, and he had to try again. "You wanted it slow."

"What about that bothers you so much?" Albus asked, genuinely flabbergasted.

Harry tried to figure out what string of words would communicate what he needed in the shortest amount of time. "I'm half-vampire. I have stamina like- It… I'm fit to  _burst, -_ "

"It  _hurts?_  Well come then, I never meant-"

Harry didn't hear the rest as the blood rushed to his ears and he bowed off the bed as he came, the orgasm burning through his every nerve until he felt as though his dick had exploded. Sobbing with relief, he curled onto his side as shudders wracked his body, a second orgasm quickly following the first as he buried his burning face in soft fur and tried to bring his body back under his control. It refused, however, still hard and quivering from his last orgasm.

As he came back to the world of the living, he found a hand stroking his back and a warm body at his front. The alcohol had finally started working its way out of his system, and Harry was alarmed to see the situation he had fallen into. Abruptly, he sat up and pulled away, wiping his face of bloody tears. Albus took a hold of his arm in a gentle grip, though, and stared him down with those soulful blue eyes.

"What just happened, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip. "I let you play a game in my drunken state, but you don't know all the rules," he murmured, averting his eyes.

"A game? Harry. Please, just explain in clear terms."

The half-vampire grunted in frustration. "I'm a half-vampire Albus. I can suppress my libido most of the time, but once I'm turned on I can't just turn off again. Vampires have... far more stamina than humans. When we play in sex, we always make sure the take the edge of first. It can be... painful, not being allowed to come, and I mean, I can enjoy it but I was so close to the line-" His eyes blurred again. "This is why I usually want to top, it's just easier that way. You don't want- this. Me. It's too complicated and- "

A pair of lips gently descended on his own. "That's for me to decide," he said softly, and Harry couldn't help but meet his eyes, guilt tearing at his insides. His past and secrets were burning a hole in his gut.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

Albus smiled. "That's what a relationship is all about. It's a discovery."

Harry stared. "You want..."

"I want  _you_ , Harry. You are an amazing person, and I want the time to get to know you more... intimately."


	14. Chapter 14

Harry didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. This had never happened to him before. Sure, he'd been asked out by people who wanted to fuck him,  _that_  he could dance to, but this...? The last thing he'd expected upon waking up in this Hermione-less wasteland was to find someone who... who wanted...  _him_.

But that was the problem, wasn't it. Albus didn't actually  _know_  him. Here he was, reaping the benefits of the sex they'd had together, and not only had Albus not gotten off, but now he was finding out that the man actually wanted- actually seemed to think that he could-

But Harry was lying to him. What kind of relationship could they base on lies? And he- If he told Albus the truth, that he was a cold hearted killer, that he'd struck down defenceless men because he'd been ordered to, that he'd wiped out whole groups of innocent people just because they'd been in the way of a mark or in the way of a mission…

Hermione had... well, she'd not liked it. But she had come to terms with the fact that that was the only way he could seem to motivate himself. It was the only thing he seemed to be good at. She could also see the bigger picture with the history that they had together and see why and how it worked the way it did. She may not agree with everything he had to do, but they had long since agreed that it was better she just didn't know the details. That way, she couldn't be captured and tortured for information, nor could she see the truly despicable human being he was.

Except, he wasn't even a human being, was he? He was a half-vampire. So on top of his instinct to save, his instinct to protect, he had to deal with the killer buried deep down that actually took sick pleasure in the hunt, instead of doing it because it was  _his job_.

And Albus didn't even know the tip of this ice-burg. How could he expect Harry to commit to anything with all that in the way? Hell, he probably didn't even know the exact depth of the hole that Harry had dug himself, and the assassin had no intention of dragging his ass out in order for someone to 'save him from himself.' After that one partner had tried to get him dragged into counselling to be turned back into a normal, puking-over-dead-bodies human being... well, he just didn't put up with that kind of shit anymore.

He had to do it. He couldn't let them try it. In the end it would just be too much weight on Albus, the poor man who didn't even know that the guy he was trying to- to-  _date_  was almost if not just as bad as Grindelwald. At least Grindelwald had been obvious about how evil he was and his desires. It was the enemy that you couldn't see that was more dangerous.

He had to do it.

But Albus was looking at him with so much hope, those eyes that seemed to cut at his resolve like razor blades, cutting up his arguments even as he formed them in his head. Valid arguments! He had to-

He  _had_ to do it. A cold ball of emotion that he couldn't identify dropped into his stomach like lead. He had to.

"Albus..."

The headmaster was watching him with such hope, such love in his eyes, it made Harry's stomach curdle even more for the lies that he was about to spout.

"I... I'm not what you want. I can't be what you want. You don't... you don't know what I am. Who I am." There. He'd said it.

But Albus just smiled and took the assassin's blood-stained, clenched fists in his hands and gave him the most soulful look he'd ever had the misfortune of being dealt. "I already told you. I'm willing to discover those things."

Harry shook his head. No, the man wasn't listening. "No, you don't get it. I'm  _wrong_  for you. I'm..." His throat seized and he had to swallow the stone of guilt that had clogged his throat. He was filthy, compared to the bright light of Albus Dumbledore. He killed people, and he didn't  _care_ , while Albus looked for the best in those around him and never gave up on their goodness.

Harry didn't have much goodness left.

Confusion had bloomed on Albus's face as Harry had an internal war with himself. Slowly, though, realization began to take its place. "Do you mean the inconsistencies between your history and the things you say? Because I've long since noticed that you have some secrets, my friend."

Harry averted his eyes. He wasn't all that surprised that Dumbledore had been able to pick up on those things. He'd always been an incredibly intelligent man, with his chess games made of real people and the miracles he'd pulled time and time again. He saw more than the average man, and it wasn't just because he was paying attention.

There was something that made this man different than all the other wizards Harry had ever known.

"That doesn't bother me, Harry," Albus said, a hand coming up to Harry's chin to grip it and pull it towards him. "You are a brilliant man, capable of amazing things, as I've seen time and time again. Why do you think you are so unworthy of this?"

Harry flinched back. Because he  _was_  unworthy. But if he told... if he told Dumbledore all the things that he had become... the disappointment would break him.

"We can't- I can't. I'm not- I can't." Harry pulled back, the stone ball in his stomach sinking lower at the expression on Albus's face. "I- You can't- I don't-" Letting out a frustrated growl, he spun away and punched his arm through the wall of Darcy and Irene's house before reconstructing it with angry magic even as he yanked his fist out. Biting his lip, he tried to hold back his trembling, but his whole body was shaking with the effort of keeping his furious magic contained.

A calming hand caressed his back, pulling a gasp from Harry as his eyes fell half shut. He leaned back into the cool licking strokes of Albus's calm magic, his body burning from the power he was reigning in with an iron will.

A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders even as a head came to rest at the back of his head, nose buried in his hair. "Please don't push me away, Harry."

Harry snorted. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"You keep saying that, but you haven't explained what you mean by it."

"I can't."

"You can't explain it, or you  _won't_?"

What could Harry do? He was under oath to protect the Agency, even if he hadn't joined it for another sixty years or so in a future that he wasn't sure would even exist in this world.

He could use that, couldn't he.

"Magical oath."

Albus's arms tightened around his shoulders. "What kind of oath?"

Harry snorted. "If I tell you through any communicative means with the intent of doing so, I will suffer a great amount of pain, and likely death."

The headmaster gasped softly in surprise. "How- what- why would you have ever taken such an oath?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't tell you that either." Technically, he could, but the more "I can't"s that fell under the Magical Oath excuse, the better.

"What  _can_ you tell me, then."

Harry sighed. Wasn't that the question. Telling about the time travel would be the only thing that wouldn't bite him in the ass. All the important things involved his job or his history in his world. No matter what he let slip, it wouldn't make things any easier between them. It would just make Albus more aware of what Harry was lying about.

Which was not something the assassin wanted. He liked their friendship. It made his life in this dimension less boring. It was hard going from fighting a war to fighting a war below the radar to absolutely  _no_  war to fight.

The more he thought about it, the more stir crazy it was making him. He'd been trying to take this as a chance at some sort of 'peace' that Hermione always insisted he find, but it was backfiring on him like a plan upon first contact with the enemy.

"I can't tell you anything," he murmured. "And that's the problem."

Albus tightened his grip even more. "I can forget about that if you give this a chance, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "It's not a good idea."

The slightly taller man let out an impatient sound and suddenly shifted forward, using his weight to push Harry up against the wall. "Why are you being so negative about this? Give it a chance before you say it won't work. If you aren't interested in me, then just say so. Do you find me attractive or not?"

Harry swallowed and bowed his head. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it much before. You kind of... took me by surprise. And while I was drunk."

Albus pulled away abruptly. "So you only responded because you were drunk, then." A tinge of anger had entered his voice. "Is this part of what you said earlier? Having sex for 'work'? Were you a whore before you came to Hogwarts?"

Fury flooded Harry faster than he could consciously hold it back, and then next thing he knew he was holding Albus down against the couch, a hand wrapped around his throat, eyes blazing and teeth bared in a snarl. "Don't judge me when you don't even know me," he hissed, almost slipping into parseltongue.

Albus was suddenly calm in the face of his anger. "I can't know you if you won't let me inside, Harry. If you were a whore, or not, I doesn't matter to me, but I would rather know if you responded to me because you are attracted to me, or it was just a conditioned response due to your... condition."

Condition. Harry's eyes narrowed. "You mean my  _half-vampirism?_  Yes, it can make me extremely horny and difficult to satisfy. It also makes me incredibly bitchy when I haven't had blood every two weeks, and pushy professors are pushing more than they should  _push_ ," he rumbled, shoving at Albus's chest. "I didn't invite you to make a move on me, so don't try to put this on me. I was drunk, and horny, and you put the moves on me. What was I supposed to do, tell you to fuck off?"

The hand that had wrapped so tightly around Albus's neck had loosened now, he noticed, gently cradling where before it had been tense and angry. How was it this man could drive him so?

"I would have preferred you saying no, if you indeed did not want to have sex with me."

Harry growled. "You're not getting it, Albus. Of course I wanted to have sex with. I still  _want_  to have sex with you. But you're not asking for sex. If this was a matter of two partners fucking because they couldn't find other partners to vent their sexual frustrations on, I'd be fine with fucking you. But you want something else. Something that I'm unprepared to share, no, something I'm  _incapable_  of sharing, something I've never even been asked to share, and you expect me to just agree and split open my heart before you and accept you with open arms and- and-" Emotion clogged his throat, and he angrily coughed to clear it. "Don't ask for something that I can't give you. It'll only lead to disappointment."

Albus stared at him, and the sad expression on his face almost made Harry want to hit him, but he would never do that. Could never hurt someone he cared about. No, he had to use words to push this away. If things got any deeper, it would only end in a broken heart for Albus. Harry... well, he wasn't sure he even had a heart left to break, to be honest. Hermione had always said that he did, that he'd find someone who would 'complete' him or some such crap, but...

Harry had never believed in fairy tales. When he had been forced to save an entire world from a psychotic Dark Lord due to some bogus prophecy by an old bat that nobody even thought capable of seeing the future, he had been forced to face the dark realities of the world. There were sick fucks out there that killed, raped, and tore minds apart for their own pleasure. Harry had been forced to witness these darker dredges of society for years. It had convinced him of humankind's depravity. There were few bright lights who led others on the right path, and Albus was one of those lights.

He wouldn't be the shadow that smothered it.

Decided, he reached for his clothes, finally realizing that he was still naked while Albus was completely dressed. Pulling on his boxers and pants with sharp, efficient movements, he tried to ignore the blue eyes that bore into him. It wouldn't work, he told himself again. No matter how much he would like that light, to own it, to make it  _his_ , he couldn't deprive the world of their Light. Albus Dumbledore was the name that would one day create hope in hearts of little boys and girls who, lacking that hope of their own, would need that light at the end of a long, dark tunnel to keep them going.

Like he had.

"Are you leaving?" Albus asked quietly, softly, his voice almost straining under an emotional weight that Harry chose not to turn his head to read. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw the damage he had wrought.

"It's better this way, Albus," he said simply, pulling on his shirt with jerky motions. "It would be better if we remained friends."

"For you or for me?" Albus asked, voice flat and devoid of the life it usually possessed.

Harry swallowed his guilt, steeled his nerves, and faced this obstacle like he had faced countless others in his life: head on. Albus's eyes burned into his own. "It's better for the world," he said.

The older man's brow twisted and blue eyes hardened. "How can you say that?"

Harry let out a sigh and just shook his head. "I know things that you don't, Albus. But in time, perhaps it will become clear to you." He contemplated summoning his presents to him before leaving, but decided to not bother. It wasn't like he couldn't come back.

"That isn't an answer, Harry."

Harry smiled an empty smile. "And yet somehow it reminds me of a headmaster we all know and love."

He disapparated.

_wWwWw_

Albus stayed sitting on the couch for what felt like hours before he finally moved from that spot, looking at the fur-covered bed on which he had thought he had finally taken in hand all that he wanted. Only for the cold truth to reveal itself shortly after, a man unwilling to take a chance at happiness and unable to open himself more than he had already.

Had Albus pushed to far? But no, while his heart ached and told him he should have done differently, logic dictated that Harry's mind had been far too made up. While he had seemed to be torn in the beginning, it hadn't been over his answer.

It had been over how to make Albus see it.

He didn't care about Albus in the same way. And if he did, whatever baggage he had hidden behind those glowing green eyes had come between them more thoroughly than any blunder the headmaster could have dealt. Logic told him this, and yet his heart ached after what had been so abruptly ripped from him. He had had that magnificent man under his hands, quivering and moaning in pleasure, responding to his every touch and word so exquisitely...

But the alcohol had apparently only allowed him to temporarily forget whatever it was that held him back. Sex, he said. Sex could have been arranged. Arranged as though it were only an activity to take care of one's bodily needs, and not the experience of connection and intimacy that it should be. What kind of history did Harry have that had twisted his heart so? That all he could see were the shadows dancing behind his eyes and the light eluded him entirely?

Albus had thought they could make it work. Had pictured the wonderful partnership that could have developed from the friendship he had so painstakingly cultivated these months, and now all of his hard work had become dust off the end of a broomstick. Lost in the wind.

And even if he tried to pick things up where they had been before, the guarded look Harry had had... the shield that had separated them as the magnificent man he had come to admire so had dressed and stood apart, prepared to deal a blow that he regretted but was forced to make...

It reminded him of-

Albus stood up abruptly, brushing off his robes and walking to the closet to retrieve his boots and cloak. Perhaps he could find answers elsewhere, if Harry's were so elusive. He needed more pieces to the puzzle before he could put it all together and figure out what kind of man Harry truly was, for it seemed Albus didn't know him as well as he thought he had.

And while that didn't stop him from wanting that man, it did open a new perspective he had yet to consider. The true depth of the web that Harry had woven, for it truly was a web.

And Albus had every intention of unravelling it.

With that decision made, he disapparated to Nurmengard. Even if Gellert could not offer any insight into Harry's mind, perhaps it was time things came to an end between them. If Albus chose to pursue Harry in spite of his reluctance, then he needed to be sure that Gellert no longer held a place in his heart.

The prison was just as he remembered it from many years ago. Dark, cold, the air as mouldy as the walls. He took his time climbing the steps, putting questions together as he arranged and rearranged the information that he possessed on his current interest. He was aware that Harry had lied to him or misled him with some answers. While the half-vampire had occlumency shields that Albus would be hard pressed to get past, he also had a very particular way about him when he lied. Normally he was engaged and open in his expressions, as though living in the moment with every bit of himself, but at other times... it seemed as though there was a stone wall between him and the world around him. When he lied, the walls came up around his eyes, and even though his expression would remain bright and open, his eyes revealed all.

Albus had only come to know this about his friend after many months of tea, chess matches, and the occasional spot of food. While it would take a pensieve to truly learn the extent of the web Harry had woven, there was much Albus could already put together. What most alarmed him was the possibility that Harry was more similar to Tom than Albus had first realized. It was true their personalities were quite different, but they both guarded their cards, holding them closely to their chests as though afraid someone would see something they did not like.

In Tom's case, it was more that he hid what lay inside in order to get what he wanted. Albus had learned that about him rather quickly while he was at school. Tom was plenty sugar-tongued and respectful on the outside, but Albus had been an eye-reader before he became a mind-reader.

Both carried shadows in their hearts, though Albus had never felt that Harry outright wished harm on other people. Tom, on the other hand, had enjoyed beating down others and winning the game. The only games Harry played were with Albus, and that was because the wizard had basically walked him into agreeing to play with him.

Albus nodded resolutely to himself. Yes, there may be some alarming things he didn't know about Harry, but he was no Tom. He couldn't be as bad as he seemed to think he was. He looked after those two girls as though they were his own daughters, giving them jobs and making sure they were safe. He had called in a marker with a hitman in order to ensure their safety.

Ah yes, the hitman. How had Harry even known him in the first place?

Albus paused on the mouldy staircase, brows furrowed in thought as his mind stretched after a connection that he could not yet see. Connections with a hitman. Said he was under magical oath and couldn't say many things about himself. Worked out like a soldier. Speed and power - enough to completely catch Albus off guard and pin him to a couch so fast it was a blur. The way his body had shifted, as though ready to fight, eyes tracing the exits as though planning-

No. Could he be...? Perhaps law enforcement? An unspeakable? But unspeakables never left the ministry. They were the researchers, they dealt in the darker things that wizarding society would rather ignore. No, he was far too familiar with battle for that to be the case. Perhaps he was a hitman himself?

Albus's eyes widened as his mind traced another pathway of thought. Harry had been exhausted the night they had waited to see if Darcy and Irene were rescued. He had been uptight and nearly bouncing with energy, on the edge of his seat. Back then Albus had assumed it was merely tension and anxiety, but now he wondered... what if... If he had ties to the unspeakables, it was possible for him to have a timeturner.

But what if he wasn't law enforcement? What if he was a freelancer? What if... he was a dark wizard?

What if he was another Grindelwald?

He shook his head. No, Grindelwald had been quick to anger, but also quick to cast. Harry had shown a remarkable ability to control his emotions, such that when he had mentioned he was a rather angry person, Albus had hardly been able to see it.

Now, however, he could see it. The way Harry had finally snapped at the end, when Albus had asked if he was a whore. His reaction alone either indicated he was very sore over it, or insulted Albus had ever suggested it. But then, what need would a soldier have for being a whore? He had also let slip when he was drunk that he had had sex for 'work' before. As much as Albus would rather not think about it, it was likely that Harry had had to have sex either for his old job in law enforcement, as a hitman, or... as an assassin.

Harry's smiling face flashed before his eyes, and for the first time Albus considered what would happen if he decided to end it here. Decided to follow Harry's advice. What had he said... that it would be better for the world if they weren't together. That had been a very strange thing to say. What had he meant by that? He'd also said that Albus shouldn't ask for something Harry was incapable of giving, that it would only lead to disappointment. The only way Harry would be incapable of love was if he were a sociopath or he had convinced himself that he was incapable of it.

Either way, it wasn't looking up for Albus.

"Who goes there?" a whispery, crackling voice called out into the tower as Albus continued his upwards ascent.

It was too late to turn back now.

"Gellert," Albus said calmly as he turned the corner to enter the main dungeon. Half the space was behind bars, the other half available for visitors.

Not that anyone visited the feared Grindelwald.

"Albus," the whispery voice finally responded with a note of disbelief. "Why have you come?"

Albus paused and resisted the urge to rest against a wall. Instead, he pulled out his wand and conjured a chair far more simple than he usually indulged in. He sat down with a small sigh, his twinkling robes reminding him of the magical afternoon that had turned into a night that went so utterly wrong.

A rough chuckle. "Now now, don't leave me in suspense. It is truly a rare honour indeed that you would choose to come visit me. I had expected you to leave me to rot here after your triumphant victory."

Albus gave the skulking shadow that was Gellert a sad look. "You left me no choice, my friend. It had to come to an end. The indiscriminate killings, the grand plan to clean the world of muggles..."

"Oh shut up. I'm not rotting in this cage right now so you can blather on about things that have long since passed. Tell me why you came here."

Albus didn't speak right away, putting his thoughts together. "I had been hoping... that an old friend could offer another old friend some advice."

"Ah." The shadow shifted and Gellert finally came into the light. He looked undernourished in his ratty clothes and sunken face, but his eyes carried the same intelligence and fire that they had so many years ago when Albus had fallen in love with him. Now, however, a pair of glowing green eyes had come to replace them in his mind, and he wasn't sure whether or not he was happy about that. "Having boy troubles are you, Albus?"

The headmaster looked up from where he'd been staring off in thought. "Are you going to make fun of me or offer me some insight into the mind of a man with more secrets than one cares to name?"

Gellert hummed thoughtfully. "You always did have a penchant for the man with grand ideals, dark magic, and a tendency for killing people. How's the new boyfriend?"

Albus stood up from the chair without a word. He wasn't going to subject himself to this if Gellert wasn't even going to be moderately helpful.

"DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME, DUMBLEDORE!"

Albus barely held back a flinch at the sheer volume of that voice that had sounded so scratchy just moments before. "If you won't engage in polite conversation, then I will leave."

"Fine, fine. I will be polite, just... just, sit down."

Without another word, Albus did as he was asked, choosing not to draw attention to the fact that Gellert's voice had been almost pleading. He waited for the other man to speak first, as he had already offered all the information he was willing to reveal until he was sure that Gellert could be trusted not to throw his words back in his face.

"Well, is he?" At Albus's blank look, Gellert scoffed. "Is he another budding Dark Lord?"

Albus frowned an shook his head. "Not that I can see."

Gellert grunted. "Then it must be someone else skulking around the old haunts."

Immediately, Albus's eyes shot to Gellert's own in alarm. "What?"

The shadow of a man shrugged. "There's someone new on the scene who's been digging up some of my old contacts. He's been making as many friends as enemies, from what I... don't hear... these walls being so thin," he said, ending in a wheezing chuckle.

Albus sighed. "I see. Do you perchance have a name?"

"Hmm. Calls himself Voldemort, from what I hear. Sounds like quite the moniker, if you ask me. Flight from death. The name itself gives away his whole goal in life: immortality."

Albus's lips pressed together in a line. "Do you think he will search for the Deathly Hallows?"

Gellert shrugged. "He's already been sniffing about. When I told him I didn't know anything about it, he left though. Nasty eyes he's got. Red as blood. I could name five dark rituals he might have done for that to have happened."

Albus's heart sank. Tom. "I... see."

An awkward silence spread for a moment before the captured man coughed. "So, why'd you come to me? I thought you never wanted to see my face again."

The headmaster sighed. "It's not that I didn't want to see your face, Gellert, it's just that... it hurt far more then than it does now."

"Mhmm. Now that you don't love me anymore."

"I will always love you, Gellert. I have just come to terms with the fact that our differences would never allow things to work out between us."

The man said nothing for a moment, eerily silent. "So what can I do about your other boy troubles?"

"Have you ever heard of a man named Harry Underwood?"

"Hmm..." Gellert appeared to think about it for a moment. "Can't say I have."

"Have you ever heard of a man with eyes glowing such a vivid green they resemble the Avada Kedavra?"

Gellert went eerily silent once more. "I have not heard of a man with those eyes."

Albus easily read the subtext. "Something other than a man?"

"There is a rumour of a green-eyed vampire that tore through the underworld looking for something not that long ago. Most of his victims were killed, butchered even."

Albus closed his eyes and took a deep, stabilizing breath. "Has he made many appearances?"

"Strangely, no. Only the one. And he was looking for a man in the Russian mafia. The White Tiger or something. It's very strange, isn't it, Albus?"

The headmaster froze, remembering the dangerous look on Harry's face when he had gotten that letter.

"Albus? You have that look on your face that's hiding the tinkering in your brain. What have you realized?"

Albus shook his head, standing up to pace the room. He couldn't- It had to be. Harry was the same man who had saved Darcy and Irene. Albus didn't know how he got his hands on a timeturner, but it was the only explanation.

Albus had given a massage to someone who had, if Gellert was telling the truth, slaughtered people on a warpath to find his girls.

The one thing that didn't make sense was  _why had he chosen to come teach at Hogwarts_. A school full of children. Not only had he been teaching them for months without incident, but he had been doing an incredibly good job at it. The students he had asked in passing had sung his praises, and even those who hadn't really shown much enthusiasm for the course sounded like they were learning lots.

Albus didn't know what he should do.

"Albus?" Gellert asked again, coming so close to the bars his face almost touched. "What's going through that mind of yours?"

The headmaster stopped his pacing. "I'm not sure I should say."

Gellert scowled. "I shared my information without being stingy. The least you can do is return the favour."

Albus's frowned deepened. "I don't want to endanger anyone. I think... this is a decision I must make on my own."

Gellert made a disgusted sound. "And what of your boy troubles?"

Albus sighed as he remembered Harry's outright rejection. "He told me it wouldn't work out."

The German Dark Lord scoffed. "Well that can mean a lot of things. Can you give me anymore than that?"

"He said..." Albus wracked his brain for the memory. "He told me I didn't know what I was asking for. And he wouldn't explain when I asked for more details." He decided it was probably best that he didn't mention the magical oath bit. Gellert may be willing to share information, but he might pass it on just as easily, and the last thing Albus wanted people to know was that Harry Underwood was some sort of... hitman.

No, that would cause problems for both of them.

"Hm. Seems to me like the boy has a dark past he doesn't want you to know about. Sound familiar? I wonder why he thinks it wouldn't work out, with you being so understanding and everything." The sarcasm layered on was nearly suffocating it was so thick.

Albus shot Gellert a Look. "Well thank you for your insight. It was... interesting." He banished the chair from where it sat and moved to leave the tower.

"Albus."

The sober tone of his voice was the only thing that prompted the headmaster to turn around and meet the defeated Dark Lord's gaze.

"I may not be sorry for what I did, but I am sorry for hurting you."

Albus cracked a small smile. "Let's hope you're the only man who will ever say that to me," he said cryptically before taking his leave.

_wWwWw_

A letter was waiting on Albus's desk when he returned. Upon seeing it was from Harry, he cast a few spells to check for curses before deciding it was a rather silly thing to do. If Harry wanted him dead, he would surely be dead by now, no?

Picking up the letter, he sliced it open with a bit of wandless magic, one of the few things he was able to do without a wand. He had noticed it had become much easier since Harry had given him his little pieces of advice during a chess game with rum and eggnog.

Pushing the painfully happy memory away, he pulled the plain muggle paper out of its envelope and began to read.

_Dear Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,_

_It is my greatest regret to inform you that I will be resigning effective at the end of this school year. I have come to realize that there are some things that I must do that will conflict with a position here at this school. I thank you for the opportunity to teach here. It truly has been a pleasure, and your company has been a light amongst the shadows of day to day life._

_Best regards,_

_Harry_

Albus stared at the signed name for a long moment, wondering if there was some sort of deeper meaning for the lack of a last name. Was Underwood a pseudonym? Was Harry's name actually Harry or did he prefer to use it for it's commonality?

More questions that he'd probably never have willingly answered. Sitting down in his chair, he frowned in thought. Harry had said he wasn't able to answer some questions, but that didn't mean that if he had had the choice, he would have chosen to share his secrets with Albus.

This man was proving to be even more intriguing and dangerous than Albus had first envisioned.

He was rather embarrassed to find that he was just as, if not even more interested now that he had gotten to know Harry better. Was he a bad man for being attracted to a man that may be a hitman?

Then he realized what it was exactly he was implying with that and he chuckled.

He was the man who had loved a Dark Lord until he had struck him down. Perhaps this time, he would succeed in pulling this man into the light instead of letting him keep himself in shadow.

Thinking of Harry's laughing to the point of tears upon discovering a dildo in his Christmas presents, he smiled softly to himself. Yes. He wouldn't give up so easily.

_wWwWw_

Harry waited for Albus to come to him about his letter of resignation, but the headmaster never did. No, after they finished fixing the Hogwarts wards, he continued to invite Harry up for games of chess as though nothing had happened.

Eventually, Harry let it go, believing the man had given up on pursuing him. But then, strange gifts began to appear in his rooms without his knowledge. It had to be the house elves. He'd wake up in the morning to discover a box of blood-filled chocolates. Homemade ones, that had cooling charms, and had been made with chicken's blood, pig's blood, and even sheep's blood for flavour.

Eventually, the harassment got to the point that he called Albus out on it.

 _Thump_.

Albus looked up from his work, the dilation of his eyes showing that he was quite startled, but his expression not showing it otherwise. "Can I help you?" he asked calmly, putting his quill in its little stand and putting the cap on his ink before it could be knocked over by the projectiles Harry was throwing at him.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man's innocent expression. "Stop sending me chocolate."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow over his spectacles, looking exactly as Harry remembered him when he'd demanded the man stop keeping secrets from him. The assassin's ire swirled around him like a cloud of magic before he forced it to settle around his shoulders, quiet but at the ready. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, my friend."

Harry's eyes narrowed even more. "Don't play dumb with me. You're the only one who knows where I live." And it couldn't be Aldon, they had fixed that hole in the wards.

Albus let out a sigh. "I am not sending you chocolate, Harry. You informed me quite clearly that you did not appreciate such advances during the Holiday."

"It has to be you. There's no one else you could be sending me chocolate.  _Blood-filled chocolate_ , Albus."

At this, Albus's brows furrowed in alarm. "Perhaps the question you should be asking, is who else knows of your  _tastes_  besides myself, because I have not been sending you chocolate."

Harry scowled. "Aldon couldn't get through my wards if he decapitated himself, so it has to be you!"

Blue eyes sharpened. "Aldon, hm? The father of young Ruben, I believe. And how would he know that you enjoy blood-filled chocolates?"

Harry froze as he realized exactly what he'd let slip right then. "He could smell it."

"Mhmm."

They stared each other down, neither willing to back down. Finally, Harry let out an irritated scoff and fell through the floor, leaving the blood-filled chocolates on Albus's desk. Aldon couldn't be doing it.

He wasn't smart enough to figure out a way around Harry's wards.

_wWwWw_

Albus eyed the box of chocolates on his desk with a strange mixture of annoyance, intrigue, and jealousy. He had indeed  _not_  been sending Harry chocolate, so it begged the question of why the man was receiving such concoctions specifically designed for his vampiric tastes.

 _Aldon_ , Harry had said... he was obviously familiar with the man. Knew enough that he could be the one to do it, but was confident in what he knew to say that the man wouldn't be able to deliver the chocolates  _to_  him.

Which begged the question of how he was doing it.

"Tiffy."

With a small  _pop_ , a little house elf wearing an apron appeared before him. She bowed. "What can Tiffy be doing to help the great Master Dumblydore, sir?"

Albus nudged the box of chocolates with his wand, not wanting to touch the thing. "Have any of your elves been delivering chocolates to Harry Underwood's rooms?"

Tiffy's eyes widened. "I not being knowing sir. One moment sir, and I be checking, great Master Dumblydore." She disappeared with another  _pop_.

A few moments later, she reappeared with another elf in toe. "This being the elf who deliver chocolates to Master Underwood, sir."

Albus nodded. "Thank you, Tiffy. What is your name?"

"Gimbly, sir Master Dumblydore sir." The elf looked positively terrified.

Albus smiled kindly. "Who have you been delivering these chocolates for, Gimbly?"

The elf took one glance at the chocolates and began wringing his hands together. "I'm sorry Master Dumblydore sir Gimbly din't know he couldn't be deliverin' presents to-"

"Gimbly. A name, please, and then you may go."

The elf nodded. "Ruben Vale," he said at nearly a whisper.

Albus smiled. "Thank you. Please pass this message on to the rest of the elves: No one is to be delivering any objects of any kind to Harry Underwood. Gimbly, Tiffy, you may both go."

They bowed in unison and vanished with a  _pop_.

Albus looked down at the chocolates sitting so innocently on his desk. And a sinister plan was revealed to be nothing more than a child's crush. Pulling the lid off the box, he inspected the chocolates curiously, using his wand of course so he didn't have to touch them. He frowned as he saw that each chocolate had a small letter carved into the top in very swirly, curly writing.

He flipped the box around so it was sideways.

_C o m e -_

_V i s i t_

_A g a i n_

_\- V a l e_

Albus's eyes narrowed. It had to be Aldon. Getting his kid to deliver them, too. These chocolates were far too expensive. Hand crafted, even. No child would be able to manage something like that.

He put the lid back on the box with a scowl.

Come- visit again -Vale.

Again.

Which meant that Harry had already been... wherever it was that Vale was. Aldon of the Valerius clan, the clan the most well known for the sheer amount of orgies that happened on a daily basis.

Albus was  _not_  impressed.

_wWwWw_

The chocolates stopped, thankfully. Harry let out a sigh of relief every time he woke up in the morning to find his coffee table bare. It seemed Albus had indeed been the culprit, and as much as Harry had hated to go up to his office and confront him like that, it was done, and the problem was fixed, and he needed to stop torturing himself over things that couldn't be.

But why did it have to be so damned hard? Every time they had tea, Albus had taken to serving it to him by hand, holding it out until Harry took it from him, making their hands touch oh so innocently. It was getting to the point where Harry was getting extremely paranoid. He couldn't believe that Albus would still talk to him, let alone seemed to be pursuing him. Not that he would admit it every time Harry gave him a Look or downright called him out on it. The man was going to drive him spare.

On top of the fact that he hadn't gotten laid in like, a month, he was seriously starting to consider going to one man or the other. Well, one man or the  _vampire_. He didn't really want to let Aldon sink his fangs into him again, figuratively, but Albus was proving to be almost as leechlike with how he just  _wouldn't let go_.

Harry was  _not_  impressed.

The next time Albus put his hands on him, he was going to slam him against the desk and fuck him until he was-

Harry's eyes widened in alarm before he groaned and scrubbed at his face with the heels of his hands. Sonovabitch.

He obviously needed to take care of this little problem before he accidentally jumped somebody.

Running through a mental catalogue of the supplies he had, he figured he might as well make use of the dildo Darcy had bought for him for Christmas. It wasn't exactly what he was looking for, but he was too impatient to conjure something that might disappear on him before he was done.

Summoning the dildo from under his bed, he kneeled in front of his fire and stripped out of his clothes in record time. Using a self lubrication charm, he didn't bother waiting and put the dildo to good use. Hissing at the uncomfortable stretch at first, he pushed past it and panted as he waited for his body to get used to the intrusion. He felt- he couldn't believe it'd come to him having to take care of himself before a chess match in order to prevent himself from fucking someone against the wall. The decrease in his control was really beginning to piss him off. He was  _The Phoenix_. He'd killed more men than he could count and he couldn't-

"Aah-" he cut off the sound by biting his lip, turning the moan into a grunt. Damnit. Everything was fucked up. He needed to get out of this situation and find some stability. Kill something. Anything.

Twisting the object inside him, he went full tilt to get the most sensation in the shortest amount of time. He had a chess match to-

"-ope you don't mind, Harry, but I thought maybe we'd play... here... today..."

Harry looked up from where he was kneeling in front of the fire in alarm. Albus was keyed into his wards. Albus had just walked into his rooms.

They stared at each other for a long, frozen moment, until the object Harry was currently manipulating slipped out of his slick hands and shifted, making stars appear before his eyes.  _"Fuck,"_  he grunted under his breath, planting his face in the carpet and trying to catch his breath. "C-can you leave for a few minutes, so I can clean-aaaaah! What are you-" A grunt cut him off as the dildo was masterfully twisted inside of him to nearly bring him to a complete collapse on the floor.  _"Fuck,"_  he groaned as a warm hand touched his back and nearly lit him on fire. Why was he so out of  _control_  that he couldn't even tell Albus to  _stop_ -

" _Ohgodpleasedon'tstop,"_  he gasped as that hand trailed down his stomach teasingly until it gripped his dripping shaft and started twisting and pulling in a way that was so different from the way he handled his own equipment and the knowledge that it was  _Albus_  doing it-

"This isn't a game, this time, Harry," Albus murmured softly. "Come whenever you need to."

Harry groaned and panted, arms collapsing onto the ground until his head was holding up his weight as his back bowed and every muscle in his body tensed as he came harder than he ever had before with a dildo up his ass.

Gasping for breath, he closed his eyes and tried to bring his respiration and racing heart back under control. He jerked when the dildo was removed and replaced by a gentle, warm cloth. Realizing that Albus must have conjured it, he relaxed slightly and let the man take care of the clean up. He apparently had no compunctions with jerking Harry off now, so who was Harry to stop him from taking care of the mess?

"I thought sex wasn't enough for you," Harry grumbled into the carpet, not yet willing to meet Albus's eyes and figure all this shit out. After the past month of mixed messages left and right, he wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"I've decided to take what I can get, if you'll let me."

Harry stiffened in alarm, collapsing onto his side and propping his head up on one hand. With a burst of wandless magic, he was fully clothed. He watched Albus's face closely for all signs of emotion, but it was a wide open book. Love, desire, respect, caring, curiosity, and a small hint of a jealous sparkle. Was he worried someone else was fucking Harry?

"Are you going to insist that it's a closed, casual relationship then? Or can I fuck other people too?"

Albus scowled. "I'd rather you didn't."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, watching the expressions pass over Albus's face. "You realize and accept that I'm going to be taking off at the end of this year for parts unknown and you may not see me again?"

The man's lips tightened into a line. "I would like to continue seeing you, but if that is an unacceptable arrangement on your part, then I would be willing to compromise."

Harry hummed and stared at the man for a long moment. His eyes were dead serious, his magic calm. He was decided. Harry could hardly believe it. "What changed between then and now?"

Albus smiled. "There are some things that, if you fail to reach for them, you will regret for the rest of your life."

Huh. Well, it wasn't the worst excuse he'd heard for someone wanting to fuck him before. Shoving down the ball of nervous emotion in his stomach, he gracefully shrugged a shoulder. "Well, that's your prerogative. Do you wanna hit the sack instead of the board?"

The blue-eyed man raised his eyebrows. "Hit the sack?" But before Harry could clarify, realization flashed in his eyes. "Ah. Well..." He leaned forward, somehow managing to not make it look awkward, as Harry was still laying half propped up on the floor. "If that's your prerogative," he whispered against Harry's lips before kissing them. A warm fire licked up Harry's spine as he was gently pressed down onto the carpet, a comfortable weight settling above him that made him feel things that he didn't feel too comfortable feeling. Which was a contradiction in itself, but since when had Harry ever been simple?

He had no reason to feel safe in Albus's company. He could probably beat the man in a duel, if he played dirty. If they kept it clean... well, that he wasn't so sure about. It was hard to gauge his memories of the incredibly feats he'd seen accomplished against a man he didn't know as well as he'd thought.

Though, Albus  _had_  forgiven Severus and given him a new chance. Not only that, but he had  _protected_  him when it came down to it. What was it with this man and taking in stray, dark wizards? Was that what he was trying to do here? Turn Harry back to the light or some such bullshit?

Warm lips pulled away from his own as blue eyes bore into him. "You are thinking far too much, my friend," he said, settling more of his weight against Harry and rocking them together slightly. When Harry gasped softly at the friction against his quickly-growing erection, he smiled and kissed a trail down the man's neck. "I can see that your stamina does you a service," he murmured.

Harry grunted. "You gonna keep things vanilla all day? I get bored easily, old man," he shot back.

Instead of being insulted and backing away, though, Albus just laughed. "Vanilla, you say. Perhaps I am not being adventurous enough. Tell me, Harry, have you ever engaged in foreplay with a wizard with a Mastery in Transfiguration and Charms?"

Harry swallowed as his mind started running away along that line. "No..." he said, tentatively.

Albus chuckled throatily, and the next thing Harry knew a wand had vanished all of his clothes.

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow. "And what are you going to do with that?"

The headmaster just smiled this devious little smirk. "Now, that would be telling."

The next thing Harry knew, he was both blind and bound, suspended in the air. Gasping in alarm, his magic immediately rose to the surface, making glass in his apartment shake. A hand touched his shoulder, running down his back, magic stroking his own in a calming manner, but not a word was said. Slowly, Harry came to grips with his sudden lack of senses, his sensitive ears picking up Albus's calm breath, easy heartbeat, while his skin tingled at the wizard's touch.

"Since when do you know about the kinkier sides of sex?" Harry asked, on edge at the curve ball so suddenly thrown at him. How did Albus even- It blew his mind.

The headmaster finally made a sound, but it was just a deep, warm, amused chuckle that lapped at Harry's ears and made a shiver course down his spine. Shit. Albus was pushing all the right buttons.

Harry's entire body jerked in surprise before he even registered the sensation moving across his body. Adrenaline rode him like a wave as he tried to figure out exactly what it was that had started wrapping itself around his foot, then his calf, then his thigh, only slip up the crease of his ass and up his back and around his ribs and tease and- Harry gasped as his nipple was grazed by a sharper edge, making him realize that Albus was wrapping him up in ribbon. The snake-like fabric wrapped itself around the base of his neck and seemed to stop.

A second ribbon nibbled at his other foot before starting to climb up his leg and oh god Harry groaned as it abruptly sped up and wrapped around his balls, holding them down and away from his body to help keep him from coming. After securely wrapping itself around his balls like a present, it continued up past his hard shaft to trace patterns on his navel before connecting once again at his neck.

Expecting it this time, he barely twitched when two ribbons began wrapping themselves around his bound hands, held above his head in the air. They thoroughly wrapped around his arms until he felt like even his half-vampiric strength wouldn't be able to tear them apart. The real kicker, though, was when the ribbons around his legs very suddenly pulled his legs apart, baring him to the world just as the day he was born. His whole body was shifted until Harry lay suspended, slightly inclined forward, ass in the air and cock dribbling precum onto the floor.

The ribbon currently between his ass cheeks started  _moving_ , and he didn't even know how but it started to slide back and forth and tease and- Harry gasped as he felt the ribbon transfigure itself right against his hole, forming a long slender shaft that literally grew inside him until it was past the tight but already stretched muscles.  _"Oh my god,"_  he groaned, cock twitching in the cool air. "Did you just transfigure a-" Abruptly, the transfigured ribbon shifted again and turned soft, this time expanding and stretching inside him almost uncomfortably before the pressure released and it turned back into the thin object it had been before.

Harry closed his eyes behind the blindfold and swallowed. Alright then. No talking. Silence reigned in the room for a long moment, filled only with Harry's panting breaths and the even breathing and elevated heartbeat of his current torturer. Finally, the ribbons began to move again, crawling across his body and covering him until the only things left bare were his nipples and cock. This time, the slow burn of being unable to come tingled in his every nerve, a pleasant heat that warmed him from the core to his ribbon-wrapped toes. Even his face had been covered with ribbon, except for his nose and mouth. The sensation all over his body was beginning to make his head dizzy, as each breath brought the silky smooth ribbon to slide against every plain and crease of his body.

Finally, he felt something touch his aching flesh, but to his frustration, it was only water and- the image of the control it took to float water around a hard cock almost set him off, his body jerking even as the ribbon pulled down on his balls and tightened around the base of his iron hard flesh.

 _"Fuck,"_  he grimaced as the impending orgasm was halted, the quivering muscles of his body slowly releasing their tension and coming back under control.

Abruptly, the ribbon in his rear expanded and stretched him once again to the point of discomfort before releasing. Harry grinned behind the ribbon. Albus was  _playing!_  It wasn't just in his head. He chuckled purposefully, just to see what would happen.

A hand came down on his ass and slapped it hard. Harry's grin just widened as his teeth extended and he let loose a groan. The hand returned, rubbing in a gentle circle to sooth the burn, and that made Harry shudder in pleasure more than the hit or the ribbons wrapped around him. Harry wasn't the biggest fan of pain during sex, but he liked games, and respect.

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter as a hand wrapped gently around his cock and began to stroke him so lightly it almost wasn't contact at all. If Albus kept hitting his buttons like this... He gasped as the object inside him began to grow again, this time turning into some unfamiliar shape that kept twisting until it nailed his prostate. His teeth went straight through his lip as he tried to keep from shouting something. If Albus kept pushing his buttons like this... The rhythmic pressure from behind and the heat from the front were beginning to drive him crazy. Was he supposed to beg? Was this the game? If Albus kept twisting his buttons like this... he didn't think he'd be able to let-

A warm mouth swallowed him down whole as the ribbons on his body came alive like snakes and a hand slipped up to his ass and began to manipulate the ribbon inside him just right and-

He gasped as his body rocked again, this time the ribbons loose and caressing around his balls as Albus sucked his soul out through his dick and sent magic bursting behind his eyes. He heard glass shatter, but it was only absently in the back of his mind as he metaphysically latched onto the aura of the man who held him in his hands with such care.

 _Fuck_...

Harry wheezed for breath, suddenly realizing he could see and that somehow he'd gotten onto his back and Albus was gently moving them towards the couch. The headmaster sat down at one end while gently floating Harry's ribbon-wrapped, sated body onto the couch with him. He put Harry's head in his lap and slowly pulled the ribbons away until he could run his long, slender fingers through Harry's hair.

Glowing green eyes drifted shut, happy in the warm embrace of comfortable cushions and the strong hand that steadied him.

_wWwWw_

Warmth. Mmm... his bed was particularly comfortable that morning and he didn't want to get up... what did it matter if he had classes. He was too comfy.

He snuggled back into the warm cushions of his bed. The sun wasn't even out yet.

His pillow moved.

Before Harry even thought about it, he had a dagger in hand and his eyes snapped open to locate the disturbance.

In the cool light of dawn, his overly sensitive eyes picked out two bleary blue eyes opening, framed in a face that had become so unerringly familiar. Catching sight of him, those eyes widened, seeing the shadow that he must have created and the gentle glint of steel in the night.

 _"Albus?"_  Harry breathed to himself, questioning his own sanity as he tried to piece together what was going on. His eyes glazed in thought, but his mind was failing him for some reason. The picture before him snapped back into focus. "Wha...?" he frowned in confusion, wracking his mind for an explanation.

He took stock of himself and frowned when he realized he was naked. "How did..." Finally, the right connection snapped things back together and he gasped, the blade in his hand disintegrating into thin air. "We... you..." His half-hard morning wood sprang to full attention at the memory of the incredibly good sex he'd had the night before. He had... he had  _passed out_. Multiple sessions with Aldon hadn't made him pass out, and only  _one game_  and Albus had worked him into the ground!

He stared, mouth parted in disbelief.

The light snapped on, illuminating their faces and making Harry's eyes hurt for a moment before they adjusted.

"You alright?" Albus's sleepy voice asked, looking around in the light for something. "Did you have a..."

Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks. "You... uh... startled me. I wasn't expecting to wake up with anybody."

Shit. Even when he'd slept with Aldon he'd been on the edge of alertness in the back of his mind, ready for any unpleasant surprises. But this...

He scrubbed at his face, his mind tired from trying to piece together this confusing...  _thing_.

"Harry?"

The assassin let his body slump, suddenly very, very tired. A little voice in the back of his mind that sounded like Hermione was saying 'don't fuck it up', and a small part of him buried on galleons of blood just wanted to go to that warm place he'd awoken in.

A hand took a hold of his shoulder and pulled him forward to rest against a warm, solid chest. Harry let his eyes fall shut again as the lights were dimmed and allowed himself to just let it all go for a bit. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. And Albus had said that... whatever. He wasn't expecting anything. So Harry wouldn't expect to give anything.

But this was kinda nice while he had it.

He drifted back off to sleep to a hand gently running through his hair and the steady drumming of a human heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year or so since I updated this story, but I'm working on it. I just decided to post it on AO3 because like many people, I'm sick of FF.Net's content crisis.


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